Authors are always told that the best way of selling books is word-of-mouth. Someone reads your book, likes it, and recommends it and so the network spreads. But it's an elusive thing. Shelf Awareness, a daily online report for booksellers, had a wonderful definition today. Word of mouth is the marriage of enthusiasm and anxiety. I'm adopting that as one of my favorite sayings.
I just read the Facebook page on the Fort Davis fire--heard yesterday from an author there who wanted to let friends and family know that he and his wife and their home are okay but friends on the east side of town lost their homes. There's something mystical/magical about being from that part of the state. The support and offers of donations, from clothes to horse feed, are amazing, as are the inquiries about specific individuals and areas. It's as if everyone in that Fort Davis/Alpine/Marathon triangle knows everyone else. It reinforces my positive feelings about Texas, just when they were having a bit of a hard time in view of the fact that we can now shoot feral hogs from helicopters--what happens when some gun-crazed idiot shoots a person by mistake? And soon we will be able to drive 85 mph on our highways because "Texans have a lot of ground to cover." I rarely admit President Nixon did much good, but he instituted the 55 mph speed limit that saved not only money but lives. Texas will shortly be the state with the highest speed limit in the nation. Such a distinction! And while on the subject of politics, the Facebook Fort Davis fires page says the governor and his office have been noticeably silent and absent from their tragedy.
Memoir class at TCU Human Resources today. In the past this class has been difficult--it's hard to take an hour out of your work day, switch gears and think memoir instead of work. But we had a delightful, hilarious time today. When we prodded the three who presented, stories behind their stories came pouring out. They'd written the surface, and I think they see the difference now. One participant was reluctant to reveal some of the negatives in her family story, but I insisted that if you don't write it all as it happened history will be whitewashed. Not a good thing. We laughed, we joked, we had a good time and yet I think we got serious work done. I came away feeling good about the class. (Oops, I started to write very good--after I just lectured them today about very being a weak intensifier that means nothing!)
Showing posts with label memoir writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memoir writing. Show all posts
Monday, April 11, 2011
Thursday, October 28, 2010
An amazing day
Today I went to the induction luncheon for the National Cowgirl Museum Hall of Fame. My longtime friend, Joyce Roach, was being inducted and I rejoiced for her. So many of us who've known each other for years came together to cheer for Joyce that the reception beforehand was a delight of visiting. Fran Vick's daughter-in-law and I were incensed that everyone else had wine and we didn't--supposedly young men were circulating with it, but we never saw them, so we went to the curtained corner from which they came and asked sweetly if they could get us wine. They did. Sat with Patt and Fred Erisman, my former boss June Koelker, and Ron Chrisman from UNT Press. That luncheon provides a feast in people watching, because the women's western outfits range from absolutely smashing to over the top and too much. The tables decorations, each apparently done by a different designer, were blow-your mind oppulent, and the place mats were made of real feathers. I kept speculating on whether or not they were reusable--I had this vision of ruffled feathers. Lunch was a good if different salad with spiced pears, greens, tomatoes, and blue cheese, followed by tenderloin with gravy, a lovely gratin of butternut squash with cranberries and what seemed like a chewy cheese layer on top, and a skewer of grilled vegetables. All very good, though dessert was hard to get to--a huge meringue cookie on top of lemon mousse. The meringue was so chewy you couldn't get through it to the mousse and I gave up.
Special awards were presented, and then this year's honorees, with a film history of each followed by their acceptance thanks. Joyce was, as always, eloquent and heart-warming with her account of her love for Texas and the western way of life. She's one of my role models, and this is a long overdue honor for her and her many accomplishments as a teacher, author, and folklorist--besides having grown up a cowgirl. I remember when she and I used to do a dog-and-pony show where she talked about being a fifth generation Texan and I followed with a talk titled, "Notes from an Outsider."
My memoir writing class met tonight and had perhaps one of the most delightful sessions we've had. Two people presented, and we laughed and laughed at their stories but also found the serious side and implications. That is such a great group, and they've developed a remarkable closeness. Tonight talk ranged from childbirth, a year in England, to a California childhood and cooking. What is wonderful is that mostly as these ladies look back on their lives and record them for their children, they find so much joy and laughter.
Ummmm. Tired.
Special awards were presented, and then this year's honorees, with a film history of each followed by their acceptance thanks. Joyce was, as always, eloquent and heart-warming with her account of her love for Texas and the western way of life. She's one of my role models, and this is a long overdue honor for her and her many accomplishments as a teacher, author, and folklorist--besides having grown up a cowgirl. I remember when she and I used to do a dog-and-pony show where she talked about being a fifth generation Texan and I followed with a talk titled, "Notes from an Outsider."
My memoir writing class met tonight and had perhaps one of the most delightful sessions we've had. Two people presented, and we laughed and laughed at their stories but also found the serious side and implications. That is such a great group, and they've developed a remarkable closeness. Tonight talk ranged from childbirth, a year in England, to a California childhood and cooking. What is wonderful is that mostly as these ladies look back on their lives and record them for their children, they find so much joy and laughter.
Ummmm. Tired.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Neighbors
Neighbors are like relatives--you don't get to choose them. But I've been as lucky with neighbors (recently) as I am with relatives. For several years I had college students living to the east--some were really nice and friendly, others were a pain. On the other side was an elderly and eccentric man who was so lonely he loved to talk. I felt most guilty that I didn't encourage him but I didn't want to take him to adopt.
Two good things happened--Jay and Susan bought the house to the west and comletely redid it. It's wonderful, and they're great neighbors. Then Sue moved in on the other side, and when I heard about it I thought, "Oh dear, a single mom with two children who will probably be noisy." Not at all. The children are a delight, and Sue became a good friend. She moved last March, and I miss her still.
But Brannon and Meredith Latimer have moved into her house with two-year-old Abby. They're expecting baby two in March and just found out it's a boy.
Meredith came over for coffee on the porch this morning--a lovely sunny morning with the temperature just right. We chatted immediately, found lots in common, and the forty-year age gap between us disappeared. We swapped stories--mine about granchildren, and hers about her child, then on to family, background, etc. An hour passed before we knew it, and it was time for her to pick up Abby. A most pleasant break in the morning, and I welcome them to the neighborhood, hope they'll stay a while.
November is Nanowrimo Month, a project that urges amateur and professional writers to put together a novel in 30 days--I didn't sign up. I don't need more pressure in my life. After all, that's why I'm retired. But today I wrote slightly over 2,000 words--if I did that every day for 30 days, I'd be darn close to a finished cozy. With my upcoming schedule, I won't get that done, but it was a good feeling, and I intend to keep after the novel now that I'm back to it. No more distractions.
Tonight was my memoir writing class. What a classy group of ladies! We laugh, we look at ourselves, we explore, and, best of all, we share. There are some hard times shared but somehow we always see the good in life. Tonight in addition to presentations, we read our exercises in telling a story in six sentences. (There's a blog where you can do that: http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/.) Lots of fun. I cheated and condensed one of my short stories into six sentences, but some of the others were really good, and one gave me the chills. The beginning of a good mystery short story.
I am so grateful for all these different threads in my life. They tie together well, but I have the feeling I'll be harried and hurried from now through Christmas.
Two good things happened--Jay and Susan bought the house to the west and comletely redid it. It's wonderful, and they're great neighbors. Then Sue moved in on the other side, and when I heard about it I thought, "Oh dear, a single mom with two children who will probably be noisy." Not at all. The children are a delight, and Sue became a good friend. She moved last March, and I miss her still.
But Brannon and Meredith Latimer have moved into her house with two-year-old Abby. They're expecting baby two in March and just found out it's a boy.
Meredith came over for coffee on the porch this morning--a lovely sunny morning with the temperature just right. We chatted immediately, found lots in common, and the forty-year age gap between us disappeared. We swapped stories--mine about granchildren, and hers about her child, then on to family, background, etc. An hour passed before we knew it, and it was time for her to pick up Abby. A most pleasant break in the morning, and I welcome them to the neighborhood, hope they'll stay a while.
November is Nanowrimo Month, a project that urges amateur and professional writers to put together a novel in 30 days--I didn't sign up. I don't need more pressure in my life. After all, that's why I'm retired. But today I wrote slightly over 2,000 words--if I did that every day for 30 days, I'd be darn close to a finished cozy. With my upcoming schedule, I won't get that done, but it was a good feeling, and I intend to keep after the novel now that I'm back to it. No more distractions.
Tonight was my memoir writing class. What a classy group of ladies! We laugh, we look at ourselves, we explore, and, best of all, we share. There are some hard times shared but somehow we always see the good in life. Tonight in addition to presentations, we read our exercises in telling a story in six sentences. (There's a blog where you can do that: http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/.) Lots of fun. I cheated and condensed one of my short stories into six sentences, but some of the others were really good, and one gave me the chills. The beginning of a good mystery short story.
I am so grateful for all these different threads in my life. They tie together well, but I have the feeling I'll be harried and hurried from now through Christmas.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Friends, old, true, and lost
This is something I wrote in a hurry this afternoon because I feared my class would run out of discussion tonight. Besides, it's a topic that's been on my mind for a while. The group did talk about this a bit but seemed to think it's a common experience. We talked about friendship, but I came away with the feeling what I wrote wasn't that profound. Otherwise it was a great class, good discussion, lots of sharing. And great apple caramel cake--no, I didn't make it. Linda came from Granbury and we had supper first--that was really good. Salmon (my good canned kind) over asparagus and topped with a sauce of basil, chives, flat-leaf parsley, capers, garlic, lemon juice and olive oil. Pungent--I thought we might scare off everyone in the class, but I guess not. We had a good visit before everyone got here.
Herewith my afternoon scrambling of my thoughts on friendship:
I am still in touch with my best friend from high school—our lives have diverged, our religious and political views are very different, but we share a lot of memories and common interests in family. I follow her on Facebook, and we email occasionally. I’m also in touch with good friends made during the years of my master’s work in Missouri—they live in Nebraska but have twice been to Texas, and I keep hoping they’ll come again. We too keep in touch by email. And then there’s a friend and former neighbor that I probably first met in the late sixties—every couple of weeks, he’ll pick up the phone and call just to say “How are you?” He and his wife have busy social and business schedules, but I do want to have them for an antipasto evening, because I remember they much enjoyed such one time before.
Friendship do come and go—people drift out of your life, and new ones drift in. I remember one night at one of my Xmas trees trimming parties after my divorce, a friend looked around and realized she didn’t know anyone. Then she thought, “OF course, Judy’s filled her life with new friends.” I’ve known some of the people closest to me for about ten years, and I can’t see them drifting away—the bonds between us are strong. But I’m always adding new friends, and when I ask the Lord to bless my friends, the list is long. I am fortunate.
Every once in a while, you lose a friend—suddenly and without explanation. That’s happened to me twice in recent years and, frankly, it hurts. A woman I’ve known since the early ‘70s and with whom I’ve shared happy moments and tragic ones, moved to a retirement home in Dallas. I called, I sent emails, a Christmas present, a birthday card. I tried to keep her informed on doings at our church and with our friends, but she always is in a hurry, says she’ll call back—and I never hear from her. I’ve written her off my list. Long after our girls were out of high school, I became friends with the mother of one of Megan’s best friends, she, too, a writer. We lunched, I ate in their home, and she and her husband ate in mine, and we came close to collaborating on a book. I thought we had a good friendship. But she moved to Colorado, lost her husband, suffered health problems, and wiped me off her slate. I talk to friends who hear from her occasionally, but I’ve heard nothing and she doesn't call when she's in town. I honestly don’t think it’s my problem in either case, but it’s still hurtful.
Friendship, as most of us know, takes work. You have to pick up the phone, make that contact, suggest that lunch, exchange news. It’s best when it’s a two-way street, but it isn’t always and that’s no reason to give up on friends who are responsive when you call. I think I have a lot of friends not only because I’m blessed but because I work at friendships.
Herewith my afternoon scrambling of my thoughts on friendship:
I am still in touch with my best friend from high school—our lives have diverged, our religious and political views are very different, but we share a lot of memories and common interests in family. I follow her on Facebook, and we email occasionally. I’m also in touch with good friends made during the years of my master’s work in Missouri—they live in Nebraska but have twice been to Texas, and I keep hoping they’ll come again. We too keep in touch by email. And then there’s a friend and former neighbor that I probably first met in the late sixties—every couple of weeks, he’ll pick up the phone and call just to say “How are you?” He and his wife have busy social and business schedules, but I do want to have them for an antipasto evening, because I remember they much enjoyed such one time before.
Friendship do come and go—people drift out of your life, and new ones drift in. I remember one night at one of my Xmas trees trimming parties after my divorce, a friend looked around and realized she didn’t know anyone. Then she thought, “OF course, Judy’s filled her life with new friends.” I’ve known some of the people closest to me for about ten years, and I can’t see them drifting away—the bonds between us are strong. But I’m always adding new friends, and when I ask the Lord to bless my friends, the list is long. I am fortunate.
Every once in a while, you lose a friend—suddenly and without explanation. That’s happened to me twice in recent years and, frankly, it hurts. A woman I’ve known since the early ‘70s and with whom I’ve shared happy moments and tragic ones, moved to a retirement home in Dallas. I called, I sent emails, a Christmas present, a birthday card. I tried to keep her informed on doings at our church and with our friends, but she always is in a hurry, says she’ll call back—and I never hear from her. I’ve written her off my list. Long after our girls were out of high school, I became friends with the mother of one of Megan’s best friends, she, too, a writer. We lunched, I ate in their home, and she and her husband ate in mine, and we came close to collaborating on a book. I thought we had a good friendship. But she moved to Colorado, lost her husband, suffered health problems, and wiped me off her slate. I talk to friends who hear from her occasionally, but I’ve heard nothing and she doesn't call when she's in town. I honestly don’t think it’s my problem in either case, but it’s still hurtful.
Friendship, as most of us know, takes work. You have to pick up the phone, make that contact, suggest that lunch, exchange news. It’s best when it’s a two-way street, but it isn’t always and that’s no reason to give up on friends who are responsive when you call. I think I have a lot of friends not only because I’m blessed but because I work at friendships.
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