Life without a computer

My brother said, "You're half a person," when I told him I've been without a computer all week, and he's right. You hear of people who give up TV or give up the internet or something. I hereby swear that will not be me.
Sunday afternoon, my puppy chewed through the wire between the converter and my laptop. I couldn't figure out why she was barking under my desk but soon discovered a wire that was sparking and had no doubt given her a mild shock. Ran to Radio Shack, then Circuit City (moved) and Best Buy (moved) and back to another Radio Shack where they told me Sony parts are proprietary but there was a Sony store nearby. Wrong--no Sony Store. All this is the heavy traffic around the mall because of tax-free shopping with the temperature reading 110 outside.
Monday I located the Sony network store where, after a great deal of trouble they located someone who could get the converter and cord to them in two days. Not cheap. And wrong again. It's scheduled to deliver Friday. I'm holding my breath.
From there I went to the grocery store only to discover I had no wallet. Ran home, cancelled my credit cards, and someone called from Radio Shack to say they'd found my wallet in the parking lot. Went to get it about 3:30--temperature 106--and my car began blowing hot air at me. Went back to the grocery for the things I hadn't gotten in the morning and by the time I got home the "check engine" light was on along with the overheated flashing red light. Car towed. Several hundred dollars later I am to get it this morning.
So that's been my week from hell--no car, no computer. I've been reading emails on my iPhone, which means I didn't answer a lot of them and when I did I'm sure I sounded abrupt--I'm not good on that keypad, even with a stylus. If I've written you and sounded annoyed, it's because I was--just not at you. Judy's Stew has gone undone, and there was no Potluck with Judy this week, although I have several guest columns ready to go.
And friends have been good about carting me around. It's not been all that bad--I'm reading a good book. But my "to do" list is overwhelming. This morning I'm working at TCU Press and grateful for the opportunity. Surely my luck will change--and the heat wave will break.

A long and lazy Saturday--and a puppy update

A friend posted on Facebook this morning something about it being Saturday with its endless possibilities. She opted for going shopping, and I laughed. My idea of a long, lazy Saturday is staying home reading, cooking, and napping. And that's just what I did. I'm re-reading for the second time the galleys of Skeleton in a Dead Space--amazing what you find when you think you've found everything. And I'm reading a mystery, A Crack in Everything, for review on the Story Circle Network. So I kind of alternate between the two.
A nice blessing for the day: a member of my extended family--my sister-in-law's brother-in-law, which makes it all sound distant and yet my family is all very fond of him--returned from a year's duty in Afghanistan. Seeing the picture of him and his wife ws wonderful. I am grateful that he's home safe and thankful for what he did for our country. Now if we could just get my nephew back from Iraq . . . .
It was a hard day with the puppy. I have puppy-proofed almost everything in my office, where she spends a great deal of her time, so now she's trying to chew the wood on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, which brings me out of my chair erupting in a great loud "No!" I'm less worried about the bookcase--it can be sanded and repainted--than I am about her getting splinters in her lungs. She's also decided to try to remove the duct tape that I used to keep the phone jack out of her little sharp jaws. And she's discovered the wilderness behind the garage in the back yard, so she no longer runs and plays where I can watch her, which of course worries me. In fairness, I must say she spent a good portion of the day lying contentedly at my feet--she sort of sleeps with her eyes open. When I scold her she looks the other way, then sneaks a look to see if I'm still looking at her--I am!
Potty training is going okay but not great--we've had one poop and two puddles in the house today, which overall is not a bad record for twelve weeks. If I time it just right, especially after nap and first thing in the morning, she rushes right out the door to pee. Catching when she wants to poop is more problematical--I haven't figured it out and neither has she.
Sophie knows "come" and "stay" and obeys when the mood strikes her. Her favorite game is to run wildly through the house escaping from me. If she's in a manic phase, forget it. I use a leash a lot in the house and yard, so that I can step on it and control her, and she's fairly good about the leash though she still wants to chew it. I think life will get a lot easier when I can take her out in the front yard; also when the heat isn't so bad; and when, if ever, she doesn't get distracted from her business by Scooby. Vet appt. next Tuesday and my oh my I have a long list--questions about both dogs and the cat.
A new issue of Food & Wine came today and I had fun leafing through it. High on my list: halibut in parchment and an appetizer spread of pureed hard-boiled eggs, salami, gherkins, mustard, mayo, and capers plus herbs--who needs herbs with all those flavors.
It was cooler today--only 105. I swear when I took Sophie out mid-day, it was hotter than the days it was 110. They say maybe 100 in a week, but "they" have predicted lower temperatures a week out for weeks now and it never happens.
I did cook for myself tonight--watch for that tomorrow night on Potluck with Judy.
Back to proof-reading.

A literary night--and some thoughts on heat and puppies

Tonight was the panel discussion at the Haltom City Public LIbrary celebrating the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee's classic To Kill a Mockingbird. Bob Ray Sanders, a leading journalist and community figure and also a native of Haltom City, moderated a panel discussion that ranged from the book to segregation in Fort Worth--Bob Ray remembers having to walk by three schools to get to the one he was allowed to go to, even though his family had been property owners for generations--and finally to integration in the '60s. Audience participation was lively, and everyone thought it was a stimulating and thought-provoking evening. We talked about the book as literature, as social commentary, and as it relates to today when prejudice surely is not erased from our society though we've come a long way. Othre panels members were author Mike Cochran, a high school teacher who has taught the novel for ten years, and an actress who read portions with great dramatic appeal. I was pleased to see some familiar faces in the audience and to have others stop and talk to me about my work.
Betty and I were joined by my friend Linda from Granbury and her friend Nancy, so we had a happy foursome at supper--I got my favorite meatloaf at the Grill--and it was nice to have my own cheering section in the front row of the audience. I like getting out to events like that and realize I should do more of it. Made some phone calls today to inquire about visiting various book clubs in the area.
I don't think Sophie had ever seen me in a skirt before--she kept biting at the ruffles on it.
I think the high today was 108, maybe a notch or two higher. I know the heat will end, I know it willr ain someday, and I know the puppy will be housebroken, but as you plod along day by day, it all looks like a long way away. The keep predicting lower temperatures--l04 is lower at this point--a few days out, but when that day comes the lower temperatures have been pushed further away. Sue asked me last night if it scared me, like maybe it would just keep getting worse and worse. I said that doesn't frighten me as much as the the feeling that I am trapped by a huge, hot monster, sort of like Grendel in Beowulf.
As if to prove to me that things aren't going to change soon, the puppy just pooped on my office floor. I took her out half an hour ago, probably didn't wait long enough. 'Scuse me--I have some cleaning to do.

The Magic of a Mentor

I've written 3000 words on a new novel--barely a drop in the bucket--but I felt that I was wandering around in the story. Yesterday, at lunch, I handed the pages to Fred, my mentor, and then I put it aside from my mind. I'm reading galleys on the first novel, due out August 29, and I need to concentrate on that. But I'm a great believer in the "back burner"--I think things simmer in the back of your mind when you're not consciously thinking about them. If I sit myself down and say, "Now I'm going to plot this novel," I come up with zip. But if I wait and let it come when I'm at the keyboard, ideas flow.
Late last night I wrote Fred an email that simply said, "There has to be a murder." I am what they call a pantser--I write by the seat of my pants and not with an outline, though I have a general idea of what's in a story.
Today I got Fred's  response--as always, he told me to slow down, write in more backstory. This time he said I had packed so much emotional intensity into six pages that it threatened to wear a reader out--spread it out (another version of slow down). He suggested some possible plot scenarios--I think I'll take some, omit others. Even as I proof another book I can feel ideas for this new one simmering in my mind, and I itch to get back to that manuscript--a good and positive feeling. I think that's why I keep writing, since I'll obviously never become rich. I have long said working things out in words is for me like the satisfaction a mathematician gets from working out a complex problem.
110 officially today--and it makes me feel 110. Picked up Jacob at 4:30--the hottest place I ever go is the side of that gymnasium as I walk to get him. Home to juggle a five-year-old boy, two dogs who had to pee but couldn't stay out in the heat, dinner, then feed the animals, take the garbage carts down and, in a fit of compulsion, bathe the puppy. It was Sophie's first bath and she didn't enjoy it much but I guess it wore her out as much as me. She's sleeping at my feet right now. Of course, after bathing her, I had to shower to get rid of eau d' puppy.
Supposed to be even hotter tomorrow. I think I'll stay in all day--no errands, no lunch out, just me and the animal kingdom.

Debt deal and staying optimistic

If Facebook is any gauge, a lot of liberals are not happy about the debt deal. I suppose a lot of conservatives aren't either, but I think in the long run both parties compromised, did what they had to, and the president, out of necessity, accepted something that was far less than he wanted. To him, I say job well done; to Congress, I say quit your blustering and posturing (that phrase started on FB and I think it's perfect).
But when it looked like we weren't going to get a deal--and I might go a few months without social security--I began to think about the way I live and what I could cut down on. Entertaining for one. I told Jordan if they planned to eat at my house a couple of nights a week--when Jacob is in school across the street--it would have to be potluck, and she snippily replied, "And you'll have to stop feeding all your friends." Too true. And all those lunches and occasional dinners out. As I put on make-up yesterday, I realized that I use really expensive make-up and cleanser, not what you get in the drugstore. Special cream to keep wrinkles away from my eyes (me, vain?). I've started buying house brands in the grocery for some things but for others I insist on top of the line--and I buy that expensive tuna canned in Oregon (just ordered another case to split with friends--Jordan nearly fainted when I told her the per can cost). I do drink cheap wine, but that's not much of a savings. I drive a gas-efficient car, though I've never measured just how efficient it is. In short there are a lot of ways I could live more cheaply--clean my own house, mow my own lawn (I really think I'm too old for that), stop updating the house--but that's self defeating. Someday I don't want it to look like a house an old lady lived in for forty years and never did a thing to. When reality comes up front and close, as it did with this debt debate, it makes you take a long, hard look a your priorities. And I realize for a single, retired woman of "a certain age" I live pretty well.
I work hard but for not much if any income--I got a little over $11 from Amazon the other day but the same mail brought a $315 electric bill, which actually isn't too bad with this heat. But I am working--got galleys to read on the novel, compiled a list of possible review outlets for the review coordinator, and proofed my new web page today, all the while keeping one eye on Sophie and moving more things from her reach. I used duct tape to keep her from the phone jack--she actually disconnected me during a call today.
Sophie takes a lot of my time--she needs to go out every two hours. Training her at this point is mostly training myself to take her out in a timely fashion. Right now she's sleeping peacefully at my feet--one of the nicest times of the day.
I tell my self over and over that the heat will break and the puppy will grow up. How soon, Lord, how soon?
I'm rambling. Over and out.

What are you worrying about?

A bright note amidst worries: Jordan and Jacob playing with  a rapidly-growing Sophie.

Two big things worry me these days. One is the continuing drought and heat wave. Today was predicted to be "only" 99 (I haven't checked, but it usually goes higher) but by next Wed. it is to be 107. Sometimes I wish we didn't have forecasts--I'm sure it's helpful to many people to be able to plan ahead, but I simply find it depressing.I feel trapped by this monster heat, and I bless my a/c which has so far chugged steadily along. My bill was high, like everyone else's, but I notice the system doesn't run all the time so I guess it's not straining. But lawns, gardens, and more important, pastures and stock tanks and lakes are drying up. People are losing their livelihoods to the weather, so it's much bigger than my personal dread of a day of 107 degrees. And there's simply no end in sight, nothing for us to look forward to and hope for. No, it's not 1980 all over again, but it's headed that way.
The other big thing that worries me is the inability of politicians to raise the debt ceiling. It seems to me, on both sides, all posturing and bluster, but, hey, folks, we're getting down to a deadline here. I read today that President Reagan raised the debt ceiling lots of times (I don't recall how many) and George W. Bush raised it 18 times. Where was all the fuss? And why pass a bill that dictates we'd have to revisit the issue--and go through all this agony again?--in six months. My partisanship comes out here: that seems a clear ploy to defeat Obama. I think throughout Obama has shown himself to be thoughtful, intelligent, and willing to compromise--he's given in more than I would have but I see the significance of the impending disaster. I'm even, reluctantly and slowly, coming to respect John Boehner. I think he really wants a solution, and he's embarrassed that he can't control the new far-right members of his delegation. To my mind, they--okay, let's call a spade a spade, the Tea Partiers--don't understand enough about how Washington works (compromise) nor do they understand the international consequences if the US defaults.
For me personally I understand all too well. I am not one of those who depend totally on social security, and I worry about those people. I worry about the elderly who won't get care, and the children will go hungry. Me? I 'll lose about a third of my income and have to curtail my lifestyle a great deal--no more lunches out, no more entertaining and cooking for guests. I'll become a hermit because that's all I can afford without decimating my savings. I realize many people will suffer a far worse fate, and I promise not to whine. But come one, guys--can't we fix this one? Between now and Tuesday?
The difference between these two worries is significant: we can't do a darn thing about the weather, except pray, do rain dances, and, if we're inclined, study weather charts though they're awfully depressing. It's a problem in God's hand. But the debt debate is in men's hands (generic men, thank you--I sitll believe in the generic pronoun) and rational men, who we've elected to lead our country, sure ought to be able to solve it.  I guess I should pray about that one too.

Elmer Kelton, writing deadlines, and hot weather

Today I went to a meeting at TCU Press about the Elmer Kelton titles we reprint and those we are about to sign a renewal of rights for. Elmer, for those who don't know, was a beloved novelist who wrote Texas history, from before the Alamo to the present, in a way no one else could, with a true Texas voice that no one could ever imitate. Born in the sand hills of Crane County, he grew up on stories of cowboys (his father was a ranch foreman), and he wove these into his books, along with a rich and well-researched knowledge of history. Probably his classic is The Time It Never Rained, a novel about the seven-year drought of the 1950s. One critic called it "one of the dozen or so best novels written by an American in the 20th Century." Elmer died last August, and we wondered, suspected, hoped there would be a bump of interest in his work. Sales prove that to be true. And today a friend sent me a link to Amazon.com that shows that a new copy of the small literary biography of Elmer I did in the 1990s may now be had for $263. Wow! Elmer, a perfect gentleman, always expressed his profound appreciation to TCU Press for keeping his works in print, and I wanted to shout at him that his books had kept TCU Press alive. He wrote, if I'm correct, about 60 books. A true marvel. If  you haven't read him, make it a point to do so. And as a person, we all miss him mightily. Gentle, kind, soft spoken, self-demurring with that politeness of a cowboy that always seemed a little more uncomfortable around women. But not his Austrian-born wife of many years, whom he adored. Watch for a festschrift, a small book honoring him, from TCU Press in the spring: Elmer Kelton: Memories and Essays.
Jungle Red Writers, a blog written by several members of Sisters in Crime, has a challenge out to members and authors to write one page a day before turning on the internet. It's not quite something I can follow--I go for the internet first thing in the morning--but it has inspired me this week to write a thousand words a day on my current novel. In fact, I think today I wrote about 1500. And I'm following that old advice--just keep writing. Worry about what sense it makes when you go back through for the first edit.
The 100+ temperatures continue in Texas--hot, muggy, and fairly discouraging. My basil is shriveled no matter how much I water it. But relief is finally on the way--who would believe that predicted highs in the mid-90s sound wonderful. But they do. By Sunday night or Monday. Meantime I have a spoiled dog because he spends all his time indoors. So do I as much as possible.

Planning a menu--and a happy grandmother's picture

Ignore the goofy grin. This is very much a proud grandmother photo. I'm wearing the T-shirt that Morgan and Kegan made for me, with a little help from their mom. Susan took this tonight when she and Jay came for supper.

I'm convinced more than ever that successful entertaining depends less on your ability as a cook than on  your ability to plan a menu. Tonight we had a cold supper, perfect for a warm day like today (101, with heat index of 108). My mom used to chill a can of salmon and serve it on a platter with cucumber, mayonnaise, and I forget what all. I've talked before about the Pisces tuna I order from a cannery in Oregon. Recently I also got six cans of salmon, and we tried it tonight. I fixed a platter of deviled eggs, cherub tomatoes, cucumbers, asparagus and salmon, and served it with a vinaigrette, mayonnaise, and lemon. None of us used anything but the lemon, and the salmon was delicious.

I also made the County Line potato salad that I loved so much at the party last weekend. It was great and Jay, who never will take home leftovers, took a huge helping of potato salad--he had some cockamanny argument that it wasn't leftovers because it hadn't been cooked and wouldn't have to be reheated. Look up the recipe online, because it's all over the place. I learned something while making it. Back to Mom's cooking again, but she learned years and years ago from the Italian cook at the hospital where Dad worked that you should peel and cube the potatoes while hot and pour vinaigrette over them. Let that soak in and cool before adding mayonnaise, mustard, onion, celery, whatever. The directions for County Line potato salad call for boiling the potatoes in their skins and refrigerating them for half an hour. I refrigerated them overnight, and oh my goodness, they were so much easier to peel and dice. You make the sauce, including onion and celery, in a separate bowl and then add the potatoes. For once, I followed the recipe to the letter, and it was delicious if I do say so. I could have eaten two helpings again but I was aware of the sour cream and mayo, even if both were "light."

Usually I don't fix dessert, but last week I wrote about Blue Bell ice cream, so I had to buy some. I bought peppermint/chocolate and served it with a mint chocolate sauce I had in the fridge. All three of us licked our bowls clean.

My point about planning: the cold platter, potato salad, and ice cream went together so well and made a perfect meal for a hot summer night. And as Susan said, conversation was as lively as always. We had a good time.

Nor did I lounge away the day. I wrote almost 800 words on my novel and feel I'm back into it. A busy week ahead, but I intend to keep writing. There's a challenge on a mystery blog to write one page a day before you ever turn to the internet. Good idea, but not one I find myself following. But I'm going to write a page--or more--every day.

As I walked out on the porch tonight when Jay and Susan were leaving, I said to think that in a month we'll be having cocktails and maybe dinner on the porch. We all sighed. This 100+ heat seems endless. We've been encouraged with the promise of scattered showers, but I'll tell you how scattered they've been: yesterday morning when I went to the store the streets were dry, but when I got  six blocks away they were wet with large puddles indicating a good-sized rain. So frustrating!

Need recipes

I spent some of today researching RO*TEL tomatoes--one valuable thing I learned is that's how you write it, not Rotel, as I've done for years. But information is scant--a man named Roettelle began canning them in the early 1940s in far south Texas; today the company is owned by ConAgra (what isn't?). Sure there are recipes on the RO*TEL website, but I'm looking for original recipes. King Ranch Chicken is a classic, but I used my own version that did not come from the website, and I used my daughter's queso that is a little different because it adds cream cheese to the RO*TEL and Velveeta. But I'd like other original recipes--it's easy to point readers to a web site, but it doesn't give a book much flavor (no pun intended). So if you've a great family recipe using these spicy canned tomatoes, please send it to me at j.alter@tcu.edu. I'll credit your contribution in the book. Thanks much.
From the ridiculous to the sublime, I went to a wine cafe tonight wearing the trendy new jeans and shirt Megan and Mel picked out for me. Ate a crab cake with blue cheese remolaude--delicious, but a long way from RO*TEL.
Like most of the nation, Texas is gripped in a heat wave. I haven't heard an official report tonight but it was expected to reach 105 and may have gone higher. It's been a bit dry which has helped but that's supposed to change. I'm beginning to think, as I'm sure others are, of the terrible summer of 1980 when we set all kinds of heat records. People still have T-shirts that say "I survived the summer of 1980." Extreme heat, like extreme cold, makes you feel almost trapped, though I laughed last night when I went out to water plants. Jay was sitting on his porch next door. I asked why he was out in the heat, and he said it was too cold inside. I find that too--too hot outside, too cold inside. Aren't we spoiled creatures?

Hot in Texas!

I'm afraid after last year's cool summer, we are in for a summer of heat. We've had days and days of 100 degrees and today is to be 104, then back to plain old 100 for the foreseeable future. Jordan, Jacob and I are leaving around 4 (the hottest part of the day) for Austin where the whole family, except Christian, will gather for Sawyer's 5th birthday. Christian will stay here and work Saturday and Sunday, and we'll come home mid-day Sunday. I had thought I could feed Scooby at 4 and he'd be all right, but it will be so hot. He's lying at my feet now, getting a break from the heat, but I'll have to put him out, with fresh water, at 4 and Moksha will come feed him later and play with him (inside!). I'm excited about two family get-togethers in a row, but a part of me hates leaving home. Got to get over that if I'm to enjoy retirement. I've got sandwiches made for the trip, water bottles chilling, suitcase packed. Went to the grocery about 7;30 this morning and put refrigerator items in the fridge at work; came home about 10:30 because my desk is really pretty clean and I have more TCU work--editing the cookbook recipes--to do at home than at the office. But in anticipation of a trip, I can't put my mind to it and will read.


I'm reading the first Diane Mott Davidson mystery, Catering to Nobody, in which her newly written preface gives a brief history of the growth of cuisine mysteries, a topic in which I'm much interested. Some authors sort of seem to stick the cooking element on top, like icing on a cake, but with Davidson's mysteries food is an integral part of the story, almost a character in the events--and the recipes are good. My friend Fred says he and his wife have tried some and liked them. In my suitcase is a novel by Virginia Rich, who apparently started the cozy cuisine trend in the 1980s--preceded of course by that gourmand, Nero Wolfe, but he can't be classed with cozies. The whole reason of why we like combining food with mysteries intrigues me--is it because mysteries are scary (a word Jacob uses often) and food is comfort? Maybe because interesting people cook? (I love a line I read recently and may have already repeated, "Only people with no imagination are bored.") I sometimes wonder that when I created a cozy heroine, she's a lousy cook but struggling to improve. Maybe I'll have to work on a second series.

Three more days to work. I pointed out to Susan this morning how empty and clean my desk is, and she asked, "How does that make you feel?" I said "Okay," but I pointed out I'll be wasting a whole lot of business cards that say director. I've even denuded the walls of the paintings that were personal property--Susan really hated to see an original woodcut by Barbara Whitehead go. Yesterday someone from Technology Resources helped me consolidate and save all my document files--apparently they wipe out your page the day you leave. But because I will be doing contract work, I will be able to access our press common page and the outlook email instead of the fairly awkward web email I use now. I'm sure the transition doesn't end when I walk out the door, but I think eventually it will be all fine. Melinda asked when I wanted them all to celebrate my retirement/birthday, so I suggested my last day of work. Somehow I don't want to just go home quietly.

Scooby and I have to get a nap in before four o'clock!

Good news--and some not so good

In June I sent thirty pages of my mystery to a NY editor, an old acquaintance from Western Writers of America. I emailed him to ask for any suggestions on agents, and he said he's editing mysteries now, forget the agent for the time being, and send it to him. So I did, but it was right when I knew he was at the Western Writers convention, and since I hadn't heard from him I emailed today just to confirm that he had the pages and to tell him of my new web page. Since he had said to think in terms of three books, I ended with a cheerful note that I am six chapters into the second novel, which I've called No Neighborhood for Old Women--a shameless play on Cormac McCarthy's title. The editor thinks the second novel is a strong concept and strong title and should be first--which is really exciting, wonderful news, and I'm working tonight on an outline for him. But if it's first it means cannbilizing the first book to the point there would be little left. A small price to pay, I guess. But I'm excited, encouraged, all those things.
On the flip side, I'm seeing the downside of seventy. I know it's time for a colonoscopy (the thought is worse than the procedure) and I'm already into gearing up for extensive dental work, but tonight comes cheery word from my doctor that I have really really messed up my shoulder. Since it's not excruciating, just annoying, I told myself it was something minor that could be fixed with physical therapy. His words came as a shock. I will have to see a surgeon and find out what he recommends, what's involved, etc. Seventy, and I feel great, but the body seems to be falling apart--teeth, colonoscopy, shoulder. Bad things come in threes, so that should take care of it for, oh say ten years.
It's still beastly hot. My new rug and bed linens for the apartment have arrived, and I wanted to take the rug out there last night so I could unroll it. Then I realized if I took it myself, I'd have to drag it in the grass and dirt--not a good idea for a new rug. I was going to ask Jay (that handsome man!) to help, but it just seemed too hot. On the other hand, I don't think it would be good to let it stay rolled for two months until fall brings cooler weather. So I unrolled it in the guest room, where it matches absolutely nothing but sure does look pretty.
Back to the mystery and my gathering thoughts on it.

Heat Wave

This dark picture is Jacob looking out the front door, watching for Mama and Dada this morning. We had lots of fun last night--he watched a video some, but we played, looked at pictures, read books, and he played his special game of "make Juju think I'm going to do something I'm not supposed to" which he does with the devil in his eyes and a big smile on his face. But this morning, he woke, crying, at 6:30 (he usually is quiet until at least 7:30). He wanted Mama. For the next three hours he was alternately joking and being funny and crying for Mama.

After they left I did my one grocery trip. Today's prediction was 105 but tonight I think the news report said it was only 101. Tomorrow is supposed to be 107 (a record! oh, good!) and I'm glad I don't have to set foot out of the house except to water plants and feed the dog, who spends most of the day inside. I opened the door today at noon to give him a treat (with a pill hidden in it) and he bolted inside. Nor does he want to go out after naptime--he knows its the hottest part of the day. The trouble with this heat is that it makes you feel trapped--inside your house, inside your air-conditioned car, wherever you are. And it's sort of never off your mind. And don't even talk to me about the heat index--those are numbers I simply don't want to hear. Knowing about them makes it worse.

I fixed an exotic tuna salad tonight, from a recipe out of Gourmet. A layer of grilled eggplant salad with garlic, vinegar, parsley added to it, then chunked tuna, then tonnato sauce (I love that--a tuna/anchovie/caper sauce), then grape tomatoes, sliced in half and tossed with mint, salt and pepper. It was really great--but it was too many intense flavors. After a few bites, I ws sort of done. I ate almost all of it and then had to break my diet and have a small chocolate sundae to change the flavors in my mouth.

Now down to work. This afternoon I edited the first 90 pages of a novel I'm wildly enthusiastic about, and tonight I'm going to finish the sixth chapter of the new novel and then go back over the first one, Dead Space, with the idea in mind that characters must grow and change.

My web page is up--except I don't know how to find it, and the girl who designed it has left town for a week. I'll call domain.com Monday, because I really want to post a link here. I'll have a new email and everything. It's like anything else digital, electronic, or whatever--getting it up and running is a royal pain, always with complications, but once you do that, you're in business and using the system comes automatically. I'm waiting for that day.

The Hero's Journey

The Sisters in Crime discussion board has been full of posts about the hero's journey lately--the Joseph Campbell theory about mythology derived from his study of Jung. As I understand it, the basic idea is that the central figure in any good storytelling is on a quest or journey, from the Iliad to Moby Dick to, perhaps, Stephen King. There has been much debate--if you consciously try to apply such a theory to your writing, does your work turn wooden and artificial? Does that pattern subconsciously work itself into writing. Does your hero or heroine have to grow and change during the story? Does such theoretical debate ruin writing, and should you forget it and just go ahead and tell the story?
I'm not sure where I stand on all that--I've done a fair amount of study of it in a book whose title I now can't remember to save my life (how's that for helpful) and I think my view is that the pattern should be there without the writer consciously saying, "Oops. I have to apply the idea of the hero's journey here." But it made me think about Kelly Jones, protagonist of my mystery series. Where is she going? Does she change during the course of the novel? I've always believed that a good novel, from belles lettres to mystery, should leave the reader in a slightly different, slightly better or more knowledgeable place, than when he or she started the book. It should make you think, even if it's pleasure reading.So probably the same is true for the characters, at least the ones you want the reader to care about. They should change, grow. I think of Jodi Picoult's Mercy, which certainly left me moved and also saw characters grow, become more confident, sure of their thinking.
Now I have to go back and read the first of my novels again with that in mind. Rewriting is a never ending business. And like other things, growth and change cannot be pasted into a book.
Our heat wave continues unabated--104 tomorrow and through the weekend, not relief in sight until late next week and then relief means under 100. I caught a summer cold, presumably from Jordan, and have felt some miserable this week. Today I feel okay but I cannot stop coughing. Jacob is coming to spend the night, and when I told Jordan I was worried about giving it to him, she suggested I wash my hands a lot. Oh, well--he didn't get it from her, so he probably won't get it from me.
Other than Jacob's visit and a Sunday night dinner to celebrate a neighbor's birthday, I intend to lay low this weekend. My life has been gloriously hectic plus a few traumatic doctors' appointments, and I need some down time. I have my writing to work on, a good mystery to read, and a novel I'm excited about to edit. Great ways to stay out of the heat.