Navigating the internet--with difficulty

People who talk glibly of various online programs that I don't understand frustrate me--now I can't even think of the names of those programs, but they are myriad. I have trouble mastering simple things, though I do okay on Facebook and Twitter (the latter is to me a bit boring). But tonight I semi-conquered two problems.
The first was my web page--well, I haven't conquered it but I made one small step. Some time ago, I submitted it to a blog that periodically evaluates web pages and came back with not a good score. The critic pointed out that it's an old picture--and it is, probably twenty-five years old. Then there was the complaint that no links make it easy for readers to click and order my books--most of my books are out of print and can only be ordered from individual sellers, but I guess I could put Amazon links. I hadn't gotten to putting old titles on Amazon and Kindle yet. And,  hey, I thought I was doing well to have a web page, let alone all that fancy stuff.
A colleague at TCU designed the page for me and did what I thought was a great job, though the critic called it simplistic. Well, I'd rather have simplistic than some of those web pages that are so fancy and intricate you don't know what you're looking at. I don't need bells and whistles--but I do need to update the page from time to time and my colleague, now an independent designer, charged every time as well she should. It's just that I need a page that is not in html and that I can upgrade--change a recipe, add a new event, etc. Besides, I have a new book coming out--have I mentioned that? oh, yes, I'm sure I have--and I need a whole new web page featuring that book, the new picture of me, etc. Not being smart about this, I assumed that the host I had required html and so I cancelled the account. Fortunately, there was a grace period, because someone from Wordpress.com pointed out to me that I still needed a host, even if I posted my page through Wordpress. So tonight I renewed the domain, just to be sure, even though it didn't expire until July 2012. Money wasted, but I was told if I let it cancel, I couldn't renew the name for 90 days, according to FCC regulations. So now that's done, and I assume all is well.
Then there's the food blog. For some reason, last night I couldn't figure out how to create a second blog on Blogger.com. Tonight, I breezed through it. And there's now a page called Potluck with Judy (notice I changed the title from Judy's Potluck, figuring that could too easily get mixed up with Judy's Stew). I think it can be found at http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com/ but one can never be sure. And I pretty much got it set up--a picture of me that's way too big, and I wrote an "about me" that didn't show up on the page. Figured I'd done enough for one night. I'll quit.
Occasionally--only occasionally--I'm ahead of my kids. When we went to Scotland, Colin said his brother wanted him to put pictures in Dropbox and he had no idea what that is. I do! I have Dropbox, but I mostly forget to use it. There was an exchange on one of the listservs tonight about whether or not you should revise in Dropbox or revise in Word and drag each new version to Dropbox. Please! When do these people write?
Some authors check their sales at Amazon and Smashwords three or four times a day--I would find that so discouraging I'd probably never write another word. I check, oh, maybe every two weeks. In recent months, I've gotten two checks from Amazon and they came as delightful surprises.
I want writing to be fun. I don't want to feel about it as I did whenever I faced the spreadsheets of monthly reports at the press. So I'll keep reading with awe and envy about the people who sell hundreds of copies online daily . . . and I'll just toddle along with my few copies. Ten? Hey, that's a big day.

Memoirs and food blogs

Last night, we had a satisfying memoir class, the last of this session. Two women presented, two very different papers, and yet in both cases. I think through discussion they came to see what they were feeling and writing about more clearly. It's so satisfying when that happens. I always feel "on" at these classes because I know as facilitator or moderator or whatever I am, I'm expected to pull things together and make meaningful comments. One of our ladies has missed several meetings because of her husband's illness but she was back last night and wonder of wonders, she had a proof of the first volume of her memoirs. That's a pretty exciting accomplishment for this class, and we all cheered and wished her well. She does not plan to market publicly--this is a book for her family and friends and I'm glad she had no delusions of fame and fortune.
Our next session begins June 23, and most of the ladies are returning. In the year I've taught it I've only had two drop-outs; others come and go, saying they have too many committments for one session but they'll be back. And they do return. We are like a group of sorority sisters or something. One of the women who presented last night said she would never share her piece with anyone else, except perhaps her prayer group, but she felt free to discuss a difficult topic with us. I think she may have inspired me to write a piece and keep it handy in case we ever run out of presentation pieces. It will be titled, "The Road Not Taken," with appropriate bows to Robert Frost.
When class ended last night and I got the kitchen cleaned and myself settled down, I had 80 e-mails. Being OCD, I checked them all--hence no blog. Tonight, I have not much more to blog about. It's a lazy weekend, with Jacob out of town, his mother going out of town. I sort of floated through the day, which was pleasant, but tonight I've been working on my food blog.
I'll post a reminder again--all over, on Facebook, Twitter, whatever--but the first post will be up Sunday night on what I've decided to call Judy's Potluck. Friends Weldon and Beth suggested the name because they thought it implied the community participaton I want--y'all bring something to the potluck! I'll get it started with a few posts and then hope others will jump in with comments, recipes, recollections, even guest columns.
In the initial column, which I drafted tonight, I'll stress that I'm not a professional, trained cook--except by my mom, which was pretty darn good training. But cooking is my avocation, the thing that relaxes me. I guess I'm what they call a nurturer (is that a cliche these days?) but I love to feed people, and I love to try new recipes on guests--and myself. 
I want to hear about your cooking, so I hope you'll join in.
Excuse me, but there's this Diane Mott Davidson book I've been trying to read all day. Gotta go.

Life's little disasters

Everyone has days like this--everything goes wrong. My first clue should have been when I discovered the people who clean my house once a month had left the litter box sitting on the commode, where the cat couldn't reach it. Actually I had said, "Never mind. I'll fix it," and then forgot. The cat was obedient--peed all over the floor where the box should have been. Cleaned that up, which put me behind in getting to my haircut appointment. Tried to turn on the TV in my office and got a screen full of snow. Forgot about that to go get my hair cut. Electric gate opened just fine with the remote but would not close for love nor money--I had to close it by hand. Got the haircut,, came back and spent 45 minutes on the phone with AT&T U-Verse trying to fix my snowy screen, following all sorts of directions about unplugging this and pressing that and so on. Finally had to leave for lunch, but the technician assured me it should work. It didn't.
After lunch I decided to tackle the TV again because I hate unsolved minor problems like that--they niggle at me. This time I learned a lesson--instead of calling the help number and going through all that automated nonsense, I instituted an online chat with a technician. This is a big lesson for me, because sometimes technicians speak English as their second language and they're hard for me to understand with my impaired hearing (a gentle way of putting it!). The online exchange is great, and with Praveen's help I figured out that the cleaning ladies had unplugged something. That had been a lurking suspicion in my mind, and I'd checked once but overlooked this plug. Voila! I had TV again.
The gate should be fixed tomorrow by someone smarter than I. Now if I could just fix that loose piece of rubber on the window lining of my car, I'd be in good shape. The VW service people said, "We've never seen anything like that." (Don't you love being the person who brings them a new problem?) They said to get at it, they'd have to remove the chrome, etc, and I asked, "What if I tried glue?" The mechanic said, "Yeah, try Superglue." So I will. I always have a fear of glueing my thumb to my forefinger!
Speaking of hearing impaired, the other day Jacob said to me, "I got a Lunchable."
Me: "You got in trouble?"
Jacob: "No." Repeated the line.
Me: "You want a vegetable?"
Jacob: "Juju, where are your hearing aids?" I put one in, and he looked at me and said, "Do you have another one?"
And then later that night he watched me clean my face and said, "Omigosh! Where did your eyebrows go?"
When we were all in Houston recently, four-year-old Kegan looked at my bare feet and asked what "that" was. I explained it was a corn because my feet are old. He looked at me and said, "You're crazy." Then after a long pause, "Nice, but crazy."
And, finally, Kegan and Jacob were playing outside when they came bursting into the kitchen.
Jacob: "Aunt Lisa, Kegan said I'm not his friend any more."
Kegan: "I didn't say that."
Jacob: "No, but you were about to!"
I love kids!

A food blog

I've been thinking lately of starting a food blog. For some time, one friend in particular has urged me to do that, and now several ideas have come to mind. I want it to be a community participation blog--guest bloggers, recipes from readers, comments, lots of participation. I'll probably post it twice a week--maybe aim for Wednesdays and Sundays, though don't look for one this Wednesday which, as I write, is tomorrow.
I haven't had many guest bloggers on Judy's Stew--in fact, darn few, because it didn't seem to fit the flow of the blog. But for the food one, I'll welcome guests--and will put out an internet call. My friend Weldon wrote eloquently about why he is gluten-free, and I'll ask him to repeat that column. I have ideas for discussing anchovies--ever notice how many people profess to hate them and then order Caesar salad? Or maybe one on sandwich fillings--I love chicken, tuna, ham, lobster, whatever kind of salad--except shrimp, which I'm sadly allergic to.
Maybe we'll do a blog on guacamole and ask for recipes--I have a class member whose husband makes the best guacamole I've ever tasted, but it takes so many avocados that I put the recipe away every time I look at it.
I've resisted mentioning food the last few days because I had this in my mind, but heck--I might as well say we had bison burgers the other night. So good. Beth (gluten-free, dairy-free wife of Weldon) said she could tell a slight difference, but I couldn't. I made a sauce that, to me, tasted like what you get on a Big Mac (no, I haven't had one in years) and I thought I'd probably be the only one to eat it. It's not on Beth and Weldon's diet, and I knew Jordan wouldn't try but to my surprise Christian ate quite a bit of it. He must be a fan of Big Macs. I made a fruit salad, which Jacob ate until his parents had to say "No more fruit," and a sort of ersatz Texas caviar which mostly consisted of what I had in the cupboard--black-eyed peas, black beans, corn, green beans, and a vinaigrette. Good meal. So that's the kind of things I have in mind. Fixed a really good meal lately? Tell me about it.
To start off this community participation, I'm asking for name suggestions. Daughter-in-law Melanie (my fifth child) named Judy's Stew without batting an eye, and I've asked for her ideas. But I'd welcome any suggestions. Judy's Kitchen isn't right, because I want this to be everybody's kitchen--and yet I want to retain my identity with it. So there's a challenge. Send ideas to me at j.alter@tcu.edu.
Happy cooking!

The fellowship of mystery writers

I've wanted to write mysteries for years, but I felt the way I did before I ever wrote fiction: mysteries were over there, on a different shelf, and I couldn't do them. I made a couple of failed attempts--actually I still think one is pretty good. But I knew I was wandering in the wilderness of my own ignorance. One day Susan Wittig Albert, author of the China Bayles herbalist mysteries and much more, came to talk at TCU. I think we'd crossed paths or were vaguely acquainted, but I was so bold as to ask her advice and she said one meaningful thing to me, "Join Sisters in Crime." I did, and I've been everlastingly grateful ever since. Once I became a member, I soon joined several sub-groups: Agent Quest, for those who were looking for agents; Guppies, the great pond of unpublished writers who are going to be published--many stay in the group after publication because of its warm camaraderie; Senior Sleuths, for those who write about older than average protagonists, something I thought about for a long time; and SmallPressQuest for those who want to abandon the search for an agent and try publishing with small presses.
I cannot begin to tell you all I've learned in the three or four years since, but the biggest thing is that it's not a cut-throat world out there. Mystery writers are in competition to a certain extent, sure, but they are so supportive of each other. They rejoice in triumphs, be they an agency contract, a publishing contract, a good review, or an important blurb. They get out the boas, start kick lines, and throw cyber-champagne parties. And they share a wealth of knowledge about seeking agents, deciding which agent is for you (it takes guts to say no but sometimes it's the best thing to do), the advantages and disadvantages of small press publication, general news of the publishing industry, and sometimes personal triumphs and tragedies. We all literally become sisters. I realize in retrospect what a naif I was in that wilderness of ignorance. I had, for instance, no idea that it was so hard to get an agent, yet now I know of people who've queried 200 or more agents; I've learned about protecting your e-rights and watching royalties paid on e-books as opposed to print (e-books should pay much more).
I've learned a lot about the use of social media--most writers but not all blog; most but not all use Facebook; there's division on the usefullness of Twitter though some swear by it. And I've found sites like Goodreads, Linked In, and too many others to mention. I've learned about retweeting for other authors and adding tags to books on Amazon and checking sales numbers on Amazon and other sites.
The problem with all this, of course, is that it's time-consuming. You eventually get to the point you have to decide which things you're going to do and which you aren't. I get upwards of 200 e-mails a day (I did join Murder Must Advertise and a couple other lists) and I look at each post, no matter how briefly. At this point I only have reprints on Amazon and Smashwords (that's another whole new topic, but Smashwords publishes e-books for almost every platform there is), so I don't check sales number or rankings compulsively; I'm barely active on Twitter and Goodreads, and I've dropped Linked In. But all that networking allows you to make decisions that you think are right for you.
After probably not enough agent queries and negative experiences with a press that kept my manuscript as an exclusive for a year (SinC will tell you that's a no-no) and with an agent who did the same thing, I have signed with Turquoise Morning Press, a small press where the vibes feel right. Probably not as businesslike as many of my sisters in mystery would be but it works for me. I tend to act on impulse (right brain, not left) but I think this will work out just fine. The main thing for me is I don't want the "business" or "busyness" of being a mystery writer to get in the way of writing and the fun of it.
But I have indeed plunged into a whole new world, one I suspect most readers don't dream exists, and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

Welcome to Kelly's neighborhood

All picture courtesy Polly Hooper.



The protagonist of my forthcoming mystery--you know, Skeleton in a Dead Space, that book I've talked incessantly about--is Kelly O'Connell, a realtor and single mother in the Fairmount neighborhood of Fort Worth. So one I thing I figure is that potential (possible?) readers should be familiar with Kelly's neighborhood, because it becomes almost another character in the book. I talked about it in my last post and about my picture-taking excursion with Polly Hooper. Actually, that's a misnomer--Polly took pictures; I sat in the car and watched. But here's Kelly's neighborhood--and what I think are some terrific pictures!
Wouldn't you want to live in that neighborhood? And solve any murders that intruded on the peacefulness of it?
These pictures will be on that new website, if I ever get the @#$%&* thing up and running.

Fun on a Saturday

Have I mentioned that my mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, will be published in late August? Actually, I think I've mentioned it twenty-eleven times because I'm excited about it. But one marketing project I'm undertaking in preparation is building a new web page, featuring the book. Confession: I submitted my current web page for appraisal (a site called 1st Turning Point evaluates websites). Mine did not fare well--it is hopelessly inadequate and outdated. The picture of me was taken when my kids were in college and since they are now in their forties or rapidly approaching them, that makes it pretty outdated. Another criticism was the lack of links to buy my books--but most of them are now out of print. Dated again!
So I'm building a new page, and the home page will feature the neighborhood in which the mystery is set. Kelly, the protagonist, lives in Fairmount--a historic neighborhood just blocks from me. As a matter of fact, Kelly and I frequent several of the same restaurants, her children attend the school across the street from me--yeah, I really did what they mean when they say write about what you know.
But Fairmount, for those of you not from Fort Worth, is a fascinating inner city neighbhorhood that in the last twenty years or so has undergone great revitalization. It's charming houses have been bought by young people who've updated them while preserving the early 1920s style, and the neighborhood is valued for its location close to downtown. More and more restaurants have flourished, bringing activity to the area. You still occasionally see a rundown house with broken sidewalk and discarded dishwasher on the front porch next to a nicely redone house with a lovely, well cared for garden. But it's getting more rare. Fairmount recently placed first in the Social Revitalization/Neighborliness category of the National 2011 Neighborhood of the Year Awards, for its community garden.
This morning Polly, one of my memoir writers and a talented photographer (responsible for my photo on this blog), and I went about the neighborhood in my VW convertible. We started with the top down, but I soon decided we were getting to sunburned. She photographed the steps of Lily B. Clayton, the school; the Old Neighborhood Grill; Chadra (a restaurant), Nonna Tata (another restaurant), a small office building on Magnolia that looks to me like where Kelly would have her office, and several rows of houses, an individual Craftsman house, and a garden that caught my eye because of the profuse Rose of Sharon. And, finally, a street sign with the Fairmount Neighborhood designation above it. I told Polly if anyone came out and demanded to know why she was taking a picture of their house, I'd just drive away and leave her. But we had fun and a good visit, and she says she got some good shots.
Afterwards we came back to my house, where Polly's husband Mike met us, and we had an early brunch of smoked salmon and cream cheese, and a curried egg anchovy spread I'd made--with, of course, a little white wine to wash it down. And with a lot of good conversation.
This evening Jacob is here. Jay and Susan came for a drink, and I re-served the lunch food, plus we had a spinach/feta dip they'd bought and I decined some wasabi peas--not like me, because I really like wasabi. Poor Jacob really wanted attention, and all he was told was, "I'm relaxing" or "I'm visiting with adults." For supper, I'd bought a rotisseried chicken at the market, but Jacob refused it--I think it was all those green herbs on the skin. He ate broccoli and fruit, lots of fruit. Tonight he told me, in almost simultaneous breaths, that I was the best Juju ever and I was the meanest grandmother ever.
A satisfying Saturday.

Pomp, Circumstance, and pre-school?

I've been to two graduations in the last week. The first was Jacob's pre-school graduation, crowded with proud parents and grandparents. The kids were adorable of course, sang a couple of songs in which they sounded like the children's choir at church. But they marched in to the strains of "Pomp and Circumstance." I don't think it made much impression on five-year-olds and they soon went to devour cake.
This morning I went with former neighbor Sue to see her son Hunter graduate from 5th grade at Lilly B. Clayton, the school across the street from my house and the one Jacob will attend starting next Tuesday. This was a much more rehearsed affair--Hunter said they practiced over and over and over and over. But, yes, they marched in to "Pomp and Circumstance." One blessing: when they sang "Clayton, my Clayton" it was to the tune of "Texas, My Texas." The musical selections were lively and well done, the awards endless--almost every child earned either the honor roll, attendance record or good citizenship. My heart ached for those who had no such accolades after their names were called. I guess we make our own beds, even in elementary school. Sue cried, as this is her last child to graduate from this school that has been such a loving, warm home for them, and I failed at my mission--didn't bring Kleenex. But I was glad to be there for support.
The thing about "Pomp and Circumstance" is that Kenwood Elementary School in Chicago ruined it for me. they put words to it, and to this day when I hear those familiar strains, my mind goes, "Goodbye to you, Kenwood/We will remember your name/For you've led us onward/To the halls of fame." If there's more, I can't remember it, but that's enough--migosh, it's been, what? sixty-some years? My mom had the same problem, only it always made her laugh. Even when I got a Ph.D.
This afternoon, I guess I was worn out by graduation and errands but my dog and cat and I slept for over two hours, so soundly that I awoke comletely disoriented--5:30? Morning? Evening? What day? I had no idea. Even wondered if I was still in Scotland but pretty quickly ruled that out. When I figured out the whole thing, I lay in delicious comfort until six, enjoying drowsiness and the quiet closeness of the animals--felt like a family.
When my children were at home, I used to buy cube steaks--those inexpensive cuts that have been tenderized. Haven't done that in years, but I saw a small one in the market today. Brought it home and cooked it the way I always had--cut in strips, flour, salt and pepper liberally, give it a fairly quick saute, and squeeze lemon juice over it before serving. While that was going on I roasted some cauliflower (which may be my new favorite vegetable after years of ignoring it) with olive oil, salt and papper. Delicious to slop the cauliflower in the leftover lemon/beef juice. I buy just a handful of cauliflower flowerets for me, but I may start buying broccoflower to get the green benefit. Only thing I missed tonight was the green vegetable.
I may have told this story before, but I inherited from my mom a firm conviction that  you should have something green, preferably dark green, at every meal. I don't always do it, but it's there. One time, a man I was dating ordered chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes with gravy for lunch. I looked at his plate in horror and said, "You don't have anything green!" He rolled his eyes and said, "Once a mother, always a mother." You know, I miss that man yet.

The puppy that wasn't meant for me

I've been noticing that Scooby, my now twelve-and-a-half-year-old Aussie (if my math is right), mostly sleeps day and night, especially if he's outside and it's hot. Inside, with me for company, he's more alert, but I think he's bored, and I've decided he needs a buddy. He may not agree, but we'll see. I found some adorable pups on the humane society web page and off I went to see them--with Sue, who had gone with me to "interview" a collie for my friend Gayla (Gayla now adores that dog!). These pups were seven weeks old, a Shih Tzu/terrier mix, and the one featured in the photo looked more much Shih Tzu than terrier. To my amazement--and Sue's expectations--there were several other people waiting to see the pups. We filled out applications and three of us all decided we wanted Marcie, the little one whose picture drew me in. The woman in charge drew names out of a hat--literally--and to my relief, I didn't get the dog. She was so tiny! And she had so much training ahead of her. I couldn't have left her out in the yard or anything. The other three pups were more wiry and terrier-like--they didn't call out to me like Marcie did. So we left puppyless.
My official line is that I'm waiting for the Lord to put the right dog in front of me--and believe me, I'll know when it's the right dog. But I admit I'm helping a little by surfing the web, making some inquiries, etc. Scoob meanwhile is lying on the floor looking at me as if to ask, "What are you up to?"
Meanwhile, there's Wywy the cat. I tried--twice--this evening to give him an infusion and really did better than before, but one time I didn't have the cat low enough below the IV bag. I'm honestly not sure how much liquid I got into him, but I tried. And now the bag is empty. I'll get refills and try again next week.
I've also spent much of this afternoon and evening fighting with Google, trying to build a new web-page. So far, Google has won. Upshot is I have two new sites established, and I'd like to delete both of them but can't figure out how. I'll keep working--or maybe shove the whole thing and try a new host. Google doesn't seem to have any support at the other end of the phone and, for me, that's a real handicap.
My horoscope says something about my intense personal magnetism today--between dogs, cats, and Google, it doesn't seem to be working.

Scotland, the last morning

Not much to say about day eight. There’s only so much to be said about a hour-plus connecting flight and then a ten-hour one that turned into eleven hours. But I did have an interesting breakfast.
Black pudding had danced before my eyes on all sorts of menus all week—lunch, dinner, often combined with steak or lamb in a chef-oriented entrée. I knew I had to taste it before I left, and I resolved to do so that last morning. I thought it was pudding like maybe tapioca, so I asked our host, David, if I could have just a teaspoonful. Well, it didn’t come that way—it was a coarse-textured and very black pattie, like I remember my mom cutting off cans of corned beef hash. I ate my sausage and eyed that pattie. Finally I took a bite: it tasted like oatmeal, maybe a bit saltier, maybe a bit sweeter. I asked David the point of adding the dried pigs blood, and he said he supposed it was simply to make use of every part of the animal. (I must learn to take pictures of food!) I did eat almost all of it, I’m glad I tried it, but I won’t miss it much since it’s not available here.
There is one airplane story on what seemed an interminable flight: a friend who is a wellness counselor had given me a sheet of exercises that you can do in your seat to avoid deep vein thrombosis. They involved turning your feet in small circles, walking in place while sitting, stretching your arms various ways, etc. I did them rather faithfully, and the kids thought it was funny to imitate me, especially when we were sitting in exit aisles and had plenty of leg room. They would swing their feet and legs in wide circles, grinning at me all the time. Passersby—and the attendants—must have thought we were all nuts.
We landed in Houston at 8:40--I don't even want to think about what time that was in Scotland--and Megan caught a flight (barely) to Austin; Colin and I went to his house, and everyone crashed. Next morning I was on a 9:00 a.m. flight to DFW and home before noon. The trip was over before I knew it.
In this series of posts I have referred to my son and daughter, ages 42 and 40 respectively, as “the kids.” They are; they will always be my children. But they are the best traveling companions (and guardians) ever.
If you’ve enjoyed my posts on Scotland, I’m grateful. Writing them was a great way to cement the trip in my mind, just as it feels as if it might flit away in the dailyness of life. It also helped me gain some perspective on all that we saw and did. I surely haven’t seen all of Scotland, let alone a sixteenth of its many castles. I’m glad we went at the pace we did and saw as much as we could. But on another trip—yes, now I’m counting on it—I’d like to stay in one place for several days, probably on Skye.