The Writing (or not) Life

Well, since it's been a good, long while since I've last written here, I thought I'd add a thought or two.

I'm at home alone quite a lot, and I feel I'm turning into a sort of recluse. Soon I'll grow that hump on my back like all bonafied hermits eventually do, and I'll start shading my eyes and making an ogrely grimace each time I emerge outside into sunlight. All kidding aside, I do feel at times trapped and blessed by my alone time--my writerly existence.

Recently, I wrote an article for a WNC magazine called Mountain Traditions, which will be included in their next issue. It's about the Kanuga Watercolor/Watermedia Workshops, held each year at the Kanuga Conference Center near Hendersonville. And truly was great fun to get out and be a reporter again for a couple of days.

There's not been any good news from my agent about my historical novel. Some days I wonder that this bird might never fly. But I'm at work on a second, and I've already written its final scene. Now I just have to ignore the voices in my head: the ones whispering of other ideas, other story lines and characters. They are seductive and dangerous, and I've been fighting them my entire writing life.

Since I've nothing else to say, I won't. But I'm feeling a little like William Faulkner today, whose one-liners always give me strength:

"My own experience has been that the tools I use for my trade are paper, tobacco, food and a little whiskey."

HAPPY EARTH DAY, Y'ALL!

I love Earth Day. It's a reminder that we live on this incredible, life-sustaining, gift of a planet, and that we're only here for a short time. What trust we hold in our hands, to protect and preserve that planet for the folks who come after us.

I love Earth Day, because it reminds me to ignore the nay-sayers, the ones who call me a "hippy," or God forbid--a "liberal"--for caring so much. For wanting things to change. For reaching out to people and reminding them of this day, this promise made.

I love Earth Day, because it's a chance for me to give thanks for that gift, to remember the life I've lived outside and in the sun and rain, for the enjoyment I've taken in natural things.

I love Earth Day, because more than anything, it reminds me that we're all in it together. That though we may disagree about which God to worship or which car to drive or which candidate to support, we are connected by a gorgeous, fragile thread. That a woodsman in Canada feels the effects of my car exhaust in North Carolina, that in Africa a family may use the seeds of a Kansas wheat farmer. That we're not alone.

I love Earth Day because loving the planet is a mirror image of loving God, of seeking progress and peace.

But others have said it far better than I ever could, and their thoughts--irreverent, funny, sarcastic, hopeful--are below:

"Opie, you haven't finished your milk. We can't put it back in the cow, you know."
~Aunt Bee Taylor, The Andy Griffith Show

"The ultimate test of man's conscience may be his willingness to sacrifice something today for future generations whose words of thanks will not be heard."
- Gaylord Nelson, former governor of Wisconsin, founder of Earth Day

"Let the clean air blow the cobwebs from your body. Air is medicine."
- Lillian Russell (1862-1922), quoted in Reader's Digest, March 1922

"Economic advance is not the same thing as human progress."
~John Clapham, A Concise Economic History of Britain, 1957

"The activist is not the man who says the river is dirty. The activist is the man who cleans up the river."
~Ross Perot

"It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment."
~Ansel Adams

"Ironically, rural America has become viewed by a growing number of Americans as having a higher [quality of life] not because of what it has, but rather because of what it does not have!"
~Don A. Dillman, Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, January 1977

"Today's world is one in which the age-old risks of humankind - the drought, floods, communicable diseases - are less of a problem than ever before. They have been replaced by risks of humanity's own making - the unintended side-effects of beneficial technologies and the intended effects of the technologies of war. Society must hope that the world's ability to assess and manage risks will keep pace with its ability to create them."
~J. Clarence Davies, quoted in Conservation Foundation, State of the Environment: An Assessment at Mid-Decade, 1984

"All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."
— Edmund Burke

"You go into a community and they will vote 80 percent to 20 percent in favor of a tougher Clean Air Act, but if you ask them to devote 20 minutes a year to having their car emissions inspected, they will vote 80 to 20 against it. We are a long way in this country from taking individual responsibility for the environmental problem."
~William D. Ruckelshaus, former EPA administrator, New York Times, 30 November 1988

"We are monumentally distracted by a pervasive technological culture that appears to have a life of its own, one that insists on our full attention, continually seducing us and pulling us away from the opportunity to experience directly the true meaning of our own lives."
— Al Gore

"Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wilderness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life."
— John Muir

"Pollution should never be the price of prosperity."
— Al Gore, in a 2000 presidential-campaign speech

"Nature provides a free lunch, but only if we control our appetites."
- William Ruckelshaus, first EPA Adminstrator, (1970-1973 and 1983-1985), Business Week, June 18, 1990.

"All nature wears one universal grin."
- Henry Fielding (1707-1754), Tom Thumb the Great, 1730.

Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs, --
To the silent wilderness,
Where the soul need not repress
Its music."
- Percy Bysshe Shelley, (1792-1822), "To Jane, The Invitation," c.1820

"He who knows what sweets and virtues are in the ground, the waters, the plants, the heavens, and how to come at these enchantments, is the rich and royal man."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), Essays, Second Series, 1844

"The Wilderness and the idea of wilderness is one of the permanent homes of the human spirit."
- Joseph Wood Krutch (1893-1970), Today and All Its Yesterdays, 1958.

Long Live the Fishmongers!

Raging waves, body-blocking wind, and sheer beauty: that's what I've come to know as the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Stuart and I stayed in the village of Salvo, on Hatteras Island, with my cousin Lindsay and her husband James, for a few days last week.

Lindsay and James, good teachers that they are, were off on Spring Break, and rented a house there. The house is called the Starry Night, and it's a fabulous two story beachhouse, high on stilts, overlooking about 50 yards of wind-swept dunes and the Atlantic. We had a lovely time in the livingroom with its panoramic windows, cooking great seafood meals, watching NCAA basketball and movies, sunsets and moonrises, and just hanging out. Scout, our lab, bounded down the beach with pure joy. (She was raised on Folly Island in S.C., and knows a good beach when she sees one.) Scout also very much enjoyed time with her dog cousin, a precocious beagle named Sally.

One of the days, we took the ferry over to Ocracoke, where we explored the island via car and foot, ate a delicious lunch at Howard's Pub, did some lighthouse and harbor viewing, toured the graveyard of the British soldiers lost at sea nearby, and had ice cream... despite the chill in the air. It was a gorgeous day: achingly blue skies, a relatively calm sea (for the Outer Banks), and miles of sun-gilded sand.

For me, a South Carolinian raised on the relatively languid, humid and white beaches of that fair state, the Outer Banks was a whole new experience. This time of year, at least, it's not a sit-on-the-sand type of place, but instead a series of islands to explore, cast out like rough-edged jewels from the mainland... the rugged pearls of an island princess. You could spend hours walking its beaches, fishing, riding bikes (all should you dare to bear the dangerous wind), searching for shipwrecks in the foam. Like us, you could explore lighthouses, the monsterous dunes of Jockey's Ridge, the eeriely quiet woods of Roanoke Island, where the Lost Colony was. All this visit has done is whet my appetite, and I know I shall return.

Interesting to note: you can drive on the beaches here, which I never would've guessed! (And I'm very aware of the need-to-fish argument.) It's just a little disconcerting to see big ol' trucks in this seemingly pristine place. I wonder what it's like in the summertime? Also... the wild ponies of Ocracoke aren't so... well, wild. They're in huge pens... which we all found a little amusing. (Again, completely aware of the not-wanting-them-to-be-hit-by-cars theory.)

Also interesting: there are cactus-like plants on the island there! If you see one, beware: they're like sand spurs on steroids--little green pods with two-inch long spikes.

Our thanks to Lindsay and James, friends extraordinaire, for being our hosts. We needed a little break from our reality lately! May the Fishmongers (our newly anointed Outer Banks band... not sure who will sing) ever reign!

Published!

Hey, y'all!

My creative nonfiction piece, "Deep Breathing Under Big Sky," has been published on the Santa Fe Writers' Project online literary journal. If you're interested, see the link below (you may have to copy and paste into your browser).

http://www.sfwp.org/index.php

I wrote this while at the Montana Artists Refuge, back in October 2007. I hope you enjoy!

Santa Fe Writers' Project 2007 Literary Award Winners Announced!

I'm happy to announce that my creative nonfiction essay, "Deep Breathing Under Big Sky," was awarded Third Place in the Santa Fe Writers' Project 2007 Literary Awards Program. To top it off, the prize for Third Place is $1,000, so I couldn't be more thrilled.

This year's submissions (all 320) were judged by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Robert Olen Butler. For more information about the Santa Fe Writers' Project (they also have an independent press) and the 2007 Literary Awards Program, go to www.sfwp.org. To see my name (smiling) and the winners announced, go to the blue box on the right side of the page, "2007 Literary Awards Program Winners Announced," and click on the link there.

Whenever they publish my piece in their online literary journal, I'll add it to the blog here. I've had to send in a photo and bio for the site (the photo is above).

Thanks to all you wonderful family and friends who continue to support and encourage me as I pursue "the writing life." My love and appreciation to you all!

Back in the Saddle Again

When I exited Johnson, Vermont, at 5 a.m. the morning of February 29, it was -21 degrees Farenheit with three feet (at least) of snow on the ground. No lie: the boogers literally froze in my nose, a most disconcerting feeling. Now, I'm back in the mountains of Western North Carolina, it's in the upper 40s, and the daffodils and crocuses (crocusi?) are in bloom. Insanity.

Being home is a study in transition. I'm happy beyond belief to be back with Stuart and Scout, and in our awesome little cottage in our awesome little town. I'm trying to hold on to the feeling of being energized by writing and my hopeful career, while also staying focused on finding a job. Brevard College has asked me to teach again in the Fall, and so I need to find something--at least--I can do, and make money at, until then.

Stuart was laid off in late February, and has been diligently searching for a new job since. He's had several interviews, made several good connections, but no luck yet. We're hopeful. If we don't have to, we don't want to move. But right now, we're ready for anything. Any company would be lucky to have him: he's brilliant, creative, hard-working, insightful, experienced, talented and loyal, to say the least.

As for me, I'm working right now on a novel I began just before leaving for the Vermont Studio Center. While there, I completed about four chapters--VERY rough draft--of it, and even had a manuscript critique with two "real" writers: Dave King, author of the bestselling novel The Ha-Ha; and Tracy Daughtery, author of What Falls Away and Axeman's Jazz, among others. If you're interested, read on:

At the urging of my agent, I started work on an antebellum novel, set in the 1850s in Charleston, S.C., during the cotton boom of the period. It centers on an eighteen year-old girl named Josephine Scott, "Jo" to friends and family. Jo is a member of a wealthy, old Charlestonian family: her father's a cotton broker and her mother an heiress and socialite. She's got one older brother, Ben, who's a wayward Yale student and young-man-about-town. So far, other characters include Jo's grandfather, an old rabble rouser and veteran of the War of 1812; Jo's uncle, Boone, an Indian agent with the Comanches in Texas, who's back in Charleston for mysterious reasons; Mary Manigault, Jo's childhood friend; Sullivan Calhoun, a nephew of John C.'s, best friend of Ben's and a romantic interest for Jo; and several other members of Charleston society, both black and white. Jo and her family are actually descendents of Quinn and Jack Wolf, the protagonists of my first novel.

Like I said, the chapters I've written are very rough. I'm definitely still in the beginning stages. The research has been a blast, and very easy--much different than research for my first novel, set almost 100 years earlier. I'm a little skeptical that the world needs another Civil War era novel, but my agent thinks differently: he says Civil War fiction never goes out of style. So we'll see.

So far, no luck with publishers on my first novel. My agent is now in California for a few months, and before he left to go there he breakfasted and lunched with editors, passing the manuscript to them. I figure we should be hearing from that round of submissions in a few months. The entire process is daunting, tedious, and lacking any good odds, but such is life.

As promised, attached are photos from my last days at the Vermont Studio Center, including a few of us playing in the snow. Good times were had by all.

I'm Leavin' On a Jet Plane

Today is my last day in the village of Johnson, Vermont, at the Vermont Studio Center. It is an incredibly sunny morning, the sky a shade a blue I'm not sure I've ever seen before. It's only 10 degrees, so bitterly cold it hurts my face to walk outside!

That being said, I've organized a Snow Play Date for some of the folks here. These Yankees need to play in the snow and watch a Southerner make a fool of herself. :) I'm pretty sure that I've successfully fought my cold and cough, and do not (as Callie said on a phone call earlier this week) sound like Darth Vader any more. A group of us are meeting to go to a park nearby to hopefully play some snow football this afternoon. Afterwards, we're going to drink hot chocolate or coffee with Bailey's in it. Now, whether I pull this off or not remains to be seen--folks are spending the day packing up and may not want to take a break--but I'm hoping it'll be fun. I'll try and post some pictures of it after I get home.

I leave Johnson tomorrow morning at 5:00 a.m. My plane leaves from the Burlington airport at 7:00 a.m., goes to La Guardia, and I should be in Charlotte by 12:30 p.m.-ish. I CAN'T WAIT to see my husband.

It's been an eye-opening four weeks. The interaction with Visiting Writers, the conversations with my peers, the connections with other writers and visual artists, the community formed here--all such a joy to be part of. These are unbelieveably talented folks, good people who look at the world in ways, and through a myriad of lenses, I'd never imagined.

This month, in many ways, has been a gift. I feel my craft is stengthened, my outlook bright. I hope I can hold on to the things I've learned. I think I can.

Despite all this, I am ready to be home and with my family. We are all still heartbroken (probably always will be), but we're healing. Thank you all so very much for your emails, your prayers and good thoughts.

Photos: Burlington, Vermont and Lake Champlain