September 1-3, 2009

I always like to get letters from my readers that I can answer in public.

C wrote: “When I go to SCBWI conferences, I’ve noticed that a lot of the writers and editors are younger than I am (which is getting easier to be by the day, but…). Not all, but the majority are. Do you think the children’s book business, in particular, is a business for the young (i.e. pre-middle age)?”

C, C, C—I go to SCBWI conferences a lot, and I am the OLDEST person there (excepting Sid Flesichman) and I am still writing. Karla Kuskin who just died at 77 was still writing rings around the rest of the poets today. Patricia MacLachlan is older than I am. Katerine Patterson older than both of us. We three are still writing up a storm. But a literature dies if there are not still younger writers (and editors) coming up through the ranks. I take it as a challenge to keep up with them, and occasionally to lead them forward when my knees hold out.

About Scotland: According to the news, this has been the wettest August in a century. I feel water-logged. So these last three days, with the rain bucketing down, I have stayed at home and worked. Wrote a bunch of pages for CURSES FOILED AGAIN, two chapters with Adam for BUG, a bit on a cat picture book that may never go anywhere, fiddled on Adam’s truly wonderful first book trailer—for my book ALL STAR which is about Honus Wagner and Philomel is crazy about the trailer.

I also did reams of laundry, and a bunch of errands,. Even went to the doctor since my hands have started getting very cold and the fingers occasionally suddenly bone white. It seems I have developed some annoying thing called Reynaud’s Syndrome, not in itself threatening but may have been caused by the blood pressure lowering med the doctor in the States gave me (linsopril) which I have now been taken off. Easy since my blood pressure is now 118/70 the doctor here thought it unnecessary.

Outside the house, the street is completely torn apart because of new pipes being laid. And flashing lights and loud sounds overpower this normally quiet area. Bah. Humbug. Though politically I am a flaming liberal, there are some things I am a Righteous Conservative. Quiet streets is one of those things!

August 31, 2009:

A second slug day. Yes, I did get some stuff done—laundry, bed
stripping, necessary phone calls, remaking my bed, etc. Finished
reading the mystery novel. (I mostly had it figured out before the end.)

Wrote a bit on BUG, two separate pieces.

Had long phone conversations with retiring editor Patti Gauch and my
agent.

Went to bed early.

Yep—SLUG.

August 26-30, 2009:

What happened: Lots more rain. The one sunny day got showery by the end, which was the day (of course) we planned the cookout. Adam was the designated cooker, which he managed in-between spurts of rain and by staying dry under the porch roof. Of course then the house was filled with passive smoke! But still the cookout (and the music playing afterwards with the Harris’ son Jamie) were a huge success. Wee David danced up a storm.

We also had a al fresco brunch for my 91 year old cousin Bea visiting from the States with her daughter Janet and her s-i-l Nigel who live in Glasgow. Bea is the youngest 91-year-old I know. A real hot ticket! Betsy was a great help in the setup and take down. We had pates and cheeses and breads of differing kinds, and vegetables. And Bea insisted, “Give me a glass of wine!”

That night—the Stemples Midwest were leaving in the morning–I took Adam, Betsy, Deb, and Bob out to dinner at the Kingarroch Inn which was a real treat for all of us. Alison and wee David were kid sat by a friend’s teenager after having had an early dinner which I made. PB&J sandwiches, fruit slices, and homemade fries which I introduced them to a week earlier and they love. We grownups had a riotous trip to the restaurant in the car, a less riotous but somewhat raucous trip home. The food was wonderful and the company a treasure.

Books News: Adam and I got several more chapters of BUG done which means we are within one or two chapters of the end. I did some more work on CURSES FOILED AGAIN. Worked on a couple of poems. Read a mystery novel (silly thing.) A sluggish week capped by a true SLUG DAY after they left on Sunday.

About the Slug Day. It is not at all related to a Gathering Day, which is when I actively take in the world and that finds ways into my actual writing. A gathering Day is an observational day. A Slug Day is a conscious unconscious, couch potato, turn-off-the-brain day. I need one of these every few months.

Oh—and on the diet: another pound gone. I am down 27 pounds from February. Hope to get at least 2 more down before I go home.

August 23-25, 2009:

We had two glorious sunny days. So much so, the top of Adam’s head got sun burnt. The kids and grandkids helped me do some garden work, cooked some dinners. And I did some writing—another chapter of BUG which is even now in Adam’s hands, some work on a possible DINOSAUR phonics book, and a poem about a school teacher friend, as well as some new pages on the graphic novel CURSES FOILED AGAIN.

People always ask me how I can work on so many things at once. The smartass answer is: I have a low threshold of boredom. (That’s true as far as it goes.) Another part of the answer is: That way I never get writer’s block. (Again true, but some pieces may take years to get finished, nb. THE EMILY SONNETS and all the starts of books, poems, stories in my filing cabinet.) And the long answer: I have always worked this way, though I do not offer it as a solution to anyone else. It may have started when I was a journalist, or even earlier as a school child having to do work in many different classes, though of course we have all done that sort of thing. Certainly it is connected with a low threshold of boredom, which is often the beginning of writer’s block., ie the writer loses interest in finding solutions to the problems in a book. But I underline that this is how I work, and in no way is it recommendation for any other writer.

We walked into town for a pizza dinner one night, I did a bunch of errands. Good summertime activities when one isn’t being a tourist. They went off to Rosslyn Chapel which I have loved the several times I’d seen it, but now it’s so crowded with The DaVinci code tourists, I didn’t want to go again.

August 19-23, 2009:

Adam and crew went off to London to stay with friends on the overnight sleeper on Thursday, until Monday morning, so it was very quiet in the house for several days. In that time, I read a mystery novel (fun but unexciting), worked on a new picture book called THE OTHER SIDE with a kicker last line, did some more work on CURSES FOILED AGAIN, ran a lot of errands, and saw the movie made from one of my favorite novels of the last ten years—“The Time Traveler’s wife” and loved it. I had tea with Marianna and a good nattering catch-up. I had dinner at Debby and Bob’s. Oh—and I lost another pound.

Now about that picture book. Some times a picture book takes me weeks, months, even years to finish. OWL MOON was six months in the writing, but I had wanted to make a book about our family birding experiences for some fifteen years. THE EMPEROR AND THE KITE, began as a completely different book and morphed over about a year and a half into the book it is now. HOW DO DINOSAURS SAY GOODNIGHT? took about three days for the draft, about a year for all the revisions between the editor and me. AN INVITATION TO THE BUTTERFLY BALL was essentially finished on a long ride home from New York City, made longer because I kept pulling over on to the side of the highway to write more and more and more. What should have been a three-hour drive became a five-hour drive.

THE OTHER SIDE is a series of short (some VERY short) poems about chickens, ducks, and other fowl crossing the road to—of course—get to the other side. They ride, walk, fly using bikes, trikes, trains, planes, pogo sticks, buses, etc. It is extremely silly and has a kicker last line that is very funny and is probably too grownup. I hope it’s sale-able. But then I ALWAYS hope my new books will be sold. The gap between hope and publication can be as big as the Grand Canyon or as small as a crack in the sidewalk. What matters is the joy in writing. Without that—I couldn’t go on.

August 13-18, 2009:

Before I give a quick recap of the York trip, some book news.

I have now officially sold THE EMILY SONNETS to Creative Editions. This is one of those Books of the Heart. I began it a number of years ago, simply writing a sonnet or two a year about the life of Emily Dickinson, and thinking that even if I wrote enough for a book, no one would ever want to publish it. But Tom Peterson—the wonderful head of the company/editor (not sure of his actual title!) that bought the Chagall poems has taken it with alacrity. Once he was interested, I suddenly found myself writing the rest of the sonnets in about a month’s time. This has been a love fest of poetry from start to finish.

Also I had a rejection or two.

And I was notified that I was to be one of two winners of the World Fantasy Awards Life Achievement, along with Ellen Asher, who was for years the head of the SF Book Club. I like Ellen a lot, so sharing this award with her is wonderful. But alas, the awards ceremony is on one of those impossible weekends where I already have three different (and paying) speaking engagements—at Keene State for the Children’s Lit conference Friday-Saturday night. The Turgeon Tea at Smith College on Sunday. And a speech at a college in Virginia on Monday. As I live in Massachusetts and the awards ceremony is in San Jose , California Sunday evening, you can readily see, there is no possible way for me to get there without two red-eye flights and even that would be pushing things and punishing me.

Now for the trip: short form is that we had a wonderful time, even though only two of the six days were sunny. The rest of the days ran from showers, to monsoon downpours and gale winds that nearly blew us all off Hadrian’s Wall. I am not exaggerating. Adam and I not only wrote a new chapter of BUG and outlined the next 5 and final chapters, but he finished a new short story as well.

Trip highlights included: Direlton Castle and Tantallon Castle in the North Berwick area of Scotland, plus a lovely picnic on the coast. Visits to Sir Walter Scott’s house Abbotsford, Jedburgh Jail, this all in the Borders. A full and horribly rainy day along Hadrian’s Wall,. Through the gorgeous countryside of the Yorkshire Moors and Dales, outstanding waterfalls and long walks in the rain, Bolton Castle . And then York—first the great maize Maze (we only did about an hour and cheated with a map we bought for 1 pound 50. But we had a 7 and a 10 year old, don’t forget.) It was our only other sunny day. Then into the city itself. By true good fortune, we found a parking garage almost immediately with many empty spaces, and when we got out, we were right at the Jorvik Viking Center and two blocks from Dig, the children’s archeological dig. We did both, had a pub meal, and then drove back to the B&B for a lovely hotel dinner and packing for an early getaway, The trip home was less than 4 hours—sometimes through pouring rain,

There were 400+ email messages waiting for me. I kid sat so Adam and Betsy (who had done all the driving) could go out for dinner on their own. The kids and I had our own dinner in front of the tv, a rare treat, and watched TOY STORY and TREASURE PLANET. And I slept till after 7 a.m. the next day which is even rarer.

August 8-12, 2009:

Saturday: Steve and Maria and I went to Falkland Palace, went through the palace and then the garden, and the Royal Tennis Court (Royal tennis is a combination of tennis and racquet ball and has been played for 500+ years in Europe. I think it was invented in France but Scotland has the oldest court which is at Falkland. Alas, since the last time I was there (with David and Adam and Betsy I think) birds have nested inside and there is swallow poop everywhere.

We went to a pub lunch and noticed a wedding party gathering at the palace. We waited to see the bride, but she was a half hour late because of traffic back at Cupar, so we left—avoiding Cupar. Forewarned and all.

That evening we had a delicious meal at Rufflets Country Inn (my treat) and then they packed.

Sunday they left by 6 a.m. on their way to the airplane. I did some writing ( CURSES FOILED AGAIN graphic novel) and then went to see G-Force with friend Nora. Just for giggles.

Monday: Adam and Betsy and tribe arrived, though because of plane delays, didn’t get in at their scheduled 11 o’clock here but at 2:30. We walked around St Andrews and the Lammas Fair which the kids love, but I love the IDEA of it. Not the reality. It is the longest extant medieval fair in all of Europe, once an agricultural, cultural, and religious fair, then a hiring fair, now one of those cheapjack, plastic carnies with rides and games that no one can actually win. We ate in town, too.

Tuesday, they went back in to town for a second day at the fair, and in the evening after dinner that Betsy and I made, they took the kids off to walk along the burn down towards town where there is a playground. I wrote some poetry—and more on CURSES FOILED AGAIN.

Wednesday, they took off for climbing on the ruins of a castle near Auchtermuchty, and then Falkland Palace. I stayed in and wrote some more on CURSES, did some laundry, got my hair done. The weather seemed to alternate huge downpours with sunshine. We had dinner at Ann and Ron Morrison’s.

Thursday begins our trip to York. Don’t expect to hear for a week.

August 7, 2009:

When off my brother and sister-in-law went for the entire day and evening to Edinburgh I took the time to get back to writing knowing we would have another full day together before their visit was over.

Finished the third or fourth draft of the new chapter of B. U. G., began the next, and sent it off to Adam. Though whether he will be able to do much between now and Sunday when they get on the plane for Scotland, I don’t honestly know. (And just as I was writing this, he sent me back the next chapter. Wow! That’s fast!) It was pretty dang good, so I worked on it some and sent it back. Sometimes the magic works!)

I also went over the editor’s last few bits on EXCEPT THE QUEEN. Mostly she did a fine job. Several I quibbled with. Midori may quibble with others.

And then I caught up on some Newsweeks. I HATE the new format. Can’t tell what is an ad and what is a story. (That’s probably deliberate on their part, which makes me even more furious!) And the news in PW is all bad. I wonder that I even check it.

Also, four editors I had thought I would hear from this week said nary a word. Summers are like that.

But I sat out in the garden some, visited a bit with Bob and Debby, talked to a few friends on the phone, and basically relaxed.

Tomorrow there will be some touristy stuff. Then I take Steve and Maria to a lovely place for dinner and Sunday morning early they head into the Edinburgh airport.

And I get the house ready for Adam and crew.

August 5-6, 2009:

Writing: worked on chapter 28 back and forth with Adam. Wrote a couple
of poem drafts. More from Rebecca Guay on the art work for the graphic
novel LOST DRAGON. Some interesting possible developments on the
expanding DINO brand but nothing real yet to report.

Went to Kellie Castle, the St Monan’s Church (here we bumped into
Marianna), ate out in Kingsbarns and a St Andrews pub, had friends Ann
and Ron Morrison over for drinks one night, all this with Steve and
Maria.

Lost another pound.

Laughing a lot. But actually a fairly routine couple of days.

August 4, 2009:

A typical Scottish day weatherwise. We had brilliant sun, blustery winds, tremendous downpours, and pretty showers alternating. When we carried an umbrella it didn’t rain. When we left it behind, the downpours were shattering.

Steve and Maria and I drove around St Andrews (it was raining and they had been into the cathedral and castle grounds on their last trip.) Then off we went to the East Neuk towns beginning with Crail. The rains had ceased, so we walked around the Castle Walk and down to the harbor, then back up to the Crail Pottery where they bought several pieces. Just as we were about to go out, the heavens opened up and we had one of those huge downpours. So we stayed at the pottery an extra fifteen minutes till things subsided.

On to Cellardyke and Anstruther, but the rain had increased again, so we stayed in the car. Went off to the Cheese Farm for lunch while it rained outside. As we were paying the tab, the sun came out. So off we went to Pittenweem where we did about three hours of the art show. Not a drop of rain then.

Exhausted, we headed home where we did email and relaxed and there was the hugest downpour of the day, shattering rains. But they lifted before we went to dinner at 7, walking into town (with the umbrella) for a pub dinner. It never rained again. (Reminder to self: take the umbrella.)

Writing? Just a poem in honor of a friend. Otherwise, nada. Though I did get a contract for the German audio edition for one of my books.

August 3, 2009:

My brother Steve and his wife got into Edinburgh two hours late and were another two and a half hours getting through customs, finding their luggage, getting a car. Then they got a bit lost once in St. Andrews and didn’t have a phone. But at last they limped in around 2:30, took showers, and then fell into bed for a two hour nap after a light lunch. Afterwards, we had a wonderful evening of talk, home-cooked food, and sharing of computers.

I had spent the morning NOT traveling, but writing a new poem (“The Gospel of the Rope”) and then turned my attention a bit of GIRL’S BIBLE.

Small celebration—as Pirene’s Fountain, a lovely literary poetry journal online—has taken three of my poems for their October issue, which delights me.

August 2, 2009:

I worked about three hours’ worth and sent off to Barbara a three-part short piece on Sarah’s response to the Binding of Isaac for our GIRL’S BIBLE book. In the first part she addresses Abraham, the second God, the third herself.

I sent poems to two online venues: Pirene’s Fountain and Goblin Market. Hurry up and wait, of course. Both have taken poems of mine before, so there is always a bit more hope than usual.

Worked on letters to three book editors about extra long waits. Yes, my agent also does this, but sometimes the editors write directly in answer to me while putting her off. This is a pincer movement, I suppose.

And then Debby and I went off for the opening of Marianna’s old and new works show called “Setting Sail” at the beautiful (very early) St Monan’s church that sits on a hill overlooking the Firth of Forth. You couldn’t ask for a more spectacular setting, though one has to wonder what going up and down that steep unprotected path in the winter means for church-goers. The opening was nicely attended, the art showed wonderfully against the old sails borrowed from the Fisheries Museum in Anstruther and the Elie Sailing Club. Several poems about the sea (Masefield, Wordsworth, and an original by one of the church women) were read. A lovely end to a quiet day.

Visitors arrive tomorrow. My brother Steve and wife. I expect to do little writing over this next week. As I wrote to a friend: “I wish I could get down in the furrow and simply smell the roses for the rest of my life. But I am not that person. Oh, I can get down in the furrow all right, but once there I want to write about the smell, how it tickles the inside of my nose, how it reminds me of another time in the furrow, create a slant rhyme of furrow with sorrow and go off on another tangent, or even make up a song about being in a hu-hu-hurry in the fu-fu–furrow.” That’s me in a nutshell. Or nutty me shelling out advice for writers. Either way, it’s definitional.

August 1, 2009:

A Day In Which I (Re-)Learned Something Painfully.

Got up early, did some noodling (technical term) and got nowhere. Then went off to the Farmer’s Market where there was a sudden downpour. Luckily I had my handy umbrella. Well, friend Christine’s friendly umbrella actually since she’d left it in my car a week ago. Bought some stuff, went home.

At home, I stalled about going off to pick up Christine because we were going to do three or four hours at the Pittenweem Arts Festival. (I think I have mentioned that there is an official Pittenweem song.) But suddenly the clouds cleared away, blue skies, and off I went. Stopped first to deliver Claire’s parka which she’d left in my car. My car, it seems, is an Official Place For Lost Things.

Christine and I started off well, made a plan. Stopped at the Cocoa Tree where I had my first chocolate treat in two weeks and we decided which venues we would tackle. I had a dark chocolate drink which was heavenly.

Then off we went, and for three hours happily saw a variety of artists and their work. My favorite was a complete surprise as the artist was a last minute substitute. She made these amazing boxes filled with both found objects and purpose-built created objects. Sort of a Scottish Joseph Cornwell.

We stopped for lunch, and I had an egg mayonnaise sandwich and regular tea (they don’t do decaf tea at these things.

Here is where I Re-Learned Something Painfully. Less than fifteen minutes later my stomach began gurgling, then aching, then distending, then. . .well, you get the idea. And there were lots of people around and very few loos. Found one just in time. Dropped off Christine, went right home. Eventually fell asleep for three hours—and I NEVER nap. Still pretty shaky.

What did I Re-Learn? There are things I cannot eat any more. Dark chocolate drink combined with a heavily mayonnaise sandwich being one combination. The regular tea didn’t help. They were sooooo good on the tongue, but trust me—it wasn’t worth it. Among other things, I am exhausted, still tender in the tummy, and missing the wonderful Pittenweem fireworks tonight.

No cards, no letters about this, please. I don’t need to be rewarded for stupidity.

July 31, 2009:

This is David’s birthday. He would have been 72. Anniversaries, birthdays—those kind of markers are still hard. But not as immediately painful as before. They remind me, though, that my heart still beats.

My friend Claire and I went out for tea at The Cheese Shop in Anstruther. A cool day with small gales, but still sunny until we had evening showers.

I worked on re-titling the EXCEPT THE QUEEN chapters but otherwise did no writing. Some days are like that.

July 30, 2009:

What do you call a day that included a trip to the physio, a hair cut, some shopping for presents for the grandkids’ birthdays and picking up the laundry? I suppose you could call it a wasted day.

Of course, I also worked on a new retelling of a Jewish olive oil story for JEWISH FAIRY TALE FEASTS with its attendant sidebars.

Not ready to say “wasted” any more?

The thing about the way I use a day is that I am good at compartmentalizing. I can set aside three or four hours of just “stuff”, ie chores. I get them done by figuring out ahead of time where and when I need to be places. Don’t dawdle. And then I go home to write. The lizard brain is working on certain problems even as I stride up and down the street ducking into the stores. Stores/stories, I make them companions.

Of course I make a huge distinction between getting chores done, and the serendipity adventures I love to go on. It’s a family thing—we set out with a few goals, but most of the trip happens on the fly. THAT looks like an interesting byway. Or the map says there’s a castle/stately home/Pictish stone here, there, over THERE. I write a bit that way, too. Yes, there is stuff under contract that needs doing. But even more fun are the byways, not the highways.

July 29, 2009:

More work on B.U.G. We seem to work in fits and starts on this. That has as much to do with how difficult two schedules are to fit around the writing of a book when both people are incredibly busy. When I am on the fly, Adam, is not, and vice-versa. But when we are both hot—things move along. On chapter 18, some 29,000 words into the book this morning. I think I wrote a humorous passage, but I know that Adam usually catches me up and sharpens it. By afternoon, I had done another draft and then sent it off to Adam.

I then did two drafts of a retelling of a Jewish folk tale about milk for the cookbook that Heidi and I are doing. Plus a draft of a new poem for the GIRL’S BIBLE project, about Ruth and Naomi.

My friend Nora and I walked into town to see the movie “The Proposal,” starring Sandra Bullock who looked as if she had had her lips puffed out. The movie had considerable charm and only two scenes I felt were too tv sitcomish. Though of course it was a simple romantic comedy premise and you knew what the ending was going to be. Still, we both enjoyed it, and it occasioned some conversation on the way home of older women in comedies, Hollywood’s treatment of same, and Sandra Bullock as an actress. We both usually enjoy her. Though I still liked her best in “Practical Magic” and “Miss Congeniality”.

July 28, 2009:

The day started bright and early with me finishing off a chapter Adam had sent and sketching the next two chapters. My initial work took about an hour, but later in the day, I did a hefty rewrite which took a couple more hours. Then I sent it off. Some of the things that go into the rewrite: a bit more action, wittier dialogue, and tidying up the language. Later that evening, Adam returned it with a beefed up fight scene. (Well, he IS the go-to guy in the family for writing fight scenes!) So tomorrow I will work some more and perhaps start the next chapter myself.

Received a Horn Book contract for a short piece. No money but a year’s subscription and worth about $90 therefore. As I am a regular subscriber, that’s terrific.

I also spent two hours putting together my part of the Harris’ game, MYTHGUARDIA. For now I am in charge of the packets that include: 2 dice, 2 pencils, 4 jewels, and 6 different colored game pieces. Each of the colors of the pieces come in separate packets and I have an entire plan of how to work the most efficiently. This is the next printing of 50 games, the first 100—a numbered edition—having sold out in three weeks. What this one won’t have that the first edition has: numbered boxes and a certificate signed by Bob (the creator) and Deb (the illustrator.) and Kirsty (the designer). After I go back to the States, they are on their own!

I did some errands in town—no rain though louring skies. And dinner at the Harris house and I went home in the pouring rain, Luckily I drove.

July 27, 2009:

After a leisurely morning, Mike and Susan, left around 11 a.m. And just as they departed, the mail was delivered with the first copy of my new picture book COME TO THE FAIRIES’ BALL.

This is one of those books in which the story of how it all got written and published is longer than the book itself!

Short form: Gary Lippincott, the illustrator and a good friend, had tried to write the book but as gorgeous as his artwork is, he’s hopeless with words. So I said, “Never mind, I’ll write something for you.” I wrote a long poem full of word play and internal rhyme about all the fairies being invited to the ball in honor of the young Prince of Fairies’ being of marriageable age, and how everyone got there on time, but one young Cinderella-ish fairy whose dress had gotten torn on a thorn. When she finally arrives, he falls in love and the book ends with an almost-twin of the invitation that opened the book, except that it is to their wedding.

When the invitation arrives:

And then what a tizzy, a flap, and a pother,

A terrible fooforaw, swivet, and bother,

A twitter, a dither, oh my! what a rumble,

A fret and a fuss and a fidget and grumble.

And further along as all the fairies but one go off to the ball:

They rode off in wagons,

On turtles, on hares.

They were packed piggybacked

Into butterfly chairs

They were towed there by swans,

They were rowed there by fish,

And one group of five

Got there fast on a wish.

And those who had wings

Flew themselves to the Hall,

And they all came on time

To the Fairies’ own Ball.

And at the Ball:

Tiptoe and heel-toe,

They dipped and they danced.

They shook, shuffled, shimmied,

They bowed and they pranced.

They trotted and trembled,

They waltzed, waddled, winged,

They hopped and gavotted,

They floated and flingged.

(And oh my, did we have copyeditor go-arounds with the word flingged, but I won.)

Gary made a dummy and a few sample illos and we sent it out, and it was bought by Boyds Mills. Then he began the drawings/paintings, but family issues, a complete house move, and other things held him up. He had problems with Fed Ex and with his printer and with the photographer who made copies of his artwork as well. But eventually—two or three deadlines later—he got the work in. And it was well worth the wait.

Is it gorgeous? Absolutely. Will it sell well? Only if you, Dear Readers, go out in the Fall and buy a copy. . .

Other stuff—a third tree fell, this one partially into the swimming pool at home. (First was a tree in my front garden in Scotland, the second my massive fir tree in the garden at home, and now this.) Let’s hope three is the charm. I have had it with these gorgeous trees going down.

We seem to be morphing slowly into summer here in Scotland. The gardens are all pretty beaten down everywhere from the heavy rains. Even the roses on the pergola, usually in full bloom now, are scattered on the ground. But they will make a recovery. Not so sure about some of the other stuff which is looking limp and broken.

Any writing today? Read two books of Jewish stuff for the two books I am working on (Girl’S BIBLE and JEWISH FAIRY TALE FEAST) and found a couple of possibly useful things. Not much else.

Or—and I rearranged the major bookcases in the house, and picked out two plastic bags worth of books to take to the second hand shop. One more big bookcase and a small one to go.

July 19-26, 2009:

More rain. I feel is if my skin is tinted a slight green. But when the sun eventually comes out, the sky is so glorious I want to weep. We did have about 2 ½ days of such sun. And wow—is the grass green!

Book News:

Of course that much rain lets me get to work. Finished the last re-revisions of EXCEPT THE QUEEN now trimmed down to 110,00 words, mostly due to co-author Midori Snyder’s heroic efforts. Instead of reading the new version beside the old one and weeping at cuts, I made the Executive Decision to just read the new to see if it was seamless, and except in three places—all easily dealt with-it was fine. Along the way I cut out 1500 words!

I also had to read the page proofs for the novella “The Tsar’s Dragons,” which mostly consisted of changing about three space breaks and totally rewriting the About the Authors. Whoever wrote the damned thing had given Adam authorship of one of his sister’s books and could not distinguish between my picture books (which got called novels) and poetry books (which got called novels.)

I also worked on three fantasy poems which I sent off to Goblin Market. (Fingers crossed.)

Started another JEWISH FAIRY TALE FEAST retelling.

Oh yes—and a couple of rejections. Ho-hum.

Other Stuff:

Went on an Open Garden day to Wormiston House with friend Christine. Absolutely gorgeous walled garden, cream tea on the terrace. AND it happened on one of the two days of sun.

Saw the new Harry Potter movie with Nora. She liked the book better. I hadn’t read it, having crashed out of the series at Book 3 ½. I did feel, however–and again–that Dumbledore was the worse school principal ever endangering students and faculty in equal measure.

Dinner with my friend Elaine, and much discussion of widowhood, that club no one wants to join.

Nora and I went to the Byre Theater to see three short plays, one about J. M. Barrie and two by Barrie. The autobio was very interesting if a bit long and a bit talky. The two playlets by Barrie were really short farces, and felt like high school plays or Carol Burnett tv sketches, done too broadly. Sort of Noel Coward Light.

Then Mike and Susan Gassaway, dear friends from Aberdeenshire, came for a weekend visit. I made a big dinner the first night and Marianna (who knew them from long ago) came, too. On the weekend we managed to see two castles, five fishing villages, one walled garden, and a ruined cathedral, I playing tour guide along the way. One grand sunny day and the rest compromised by rain.

July 12-18, 2009:

Back report: Lost one more pound. Back pretty good (except when it
rains, and it seems to be raining a LOT lately).

Book news: Received the first copies of the picture book MY FATHER KNOWS THE NAMES OF THINGS, an homage to my dear husband David written in the first year after he died. The illustrator did a magnificent job. The book makes me both joyful and very sad. It will be out in the
spring, in time for father’s day. And at the same time—in the same package–I received the first proofs of Heidi’s and my picture book NOT ALL PRINCESSES DRESS IN PINK, absolutely adorable and funny, the pictures simply zip off the page.
For next summer.

Worked on redoing three chapters in EXCEPT THE QUEEN which Midori
pointed out needed work.

Wrote a poem about chocolate.

And finished signing the 7500 book plates. Don’t ask about how my hands
and fingers feel.

Other stuff: Dinner at Bob and Debby’s and afterwards (with their
youngest son Jamie) we played my first game of Mythgardia. I was the
loser entirely! But it was fun and I look forward to playing it another
time.

Bought three new rose plants for the pergola (arbor) and a sycamore in
the front garden had died and had to be taken down.

Marianna and her partner Peter and I went to the Weymss caves which are
full of pictish symbols. He stayed ut birdwatching for had seen the caves many times. She was leading a tour, but the other people on the tour–a Scottish husband and wife and their two friends from Tenerife–bugged out after the first two caves because the two Tenrife
women were wearing high heeled boots which were not suitable for
caving! So I got to have a private tour, which was delicious.

Nora and I went together to see our friend Claire doing a solo cello
concert at St Salvator’s chapel. The concert was sensational—3 Mozart,
cello suites, a blues piece by our mutual friend Peter Siebert, and a
Robert Burns song. The chapel is 15th century and gorgeous. with very
lively sound. Saw a fw other friends there as well.

July 6-11, 2009

Back report: I have had a good summer back-wise, in part due to losing 21 pounds, in part due to the stretching exercises I do every morning (some from the American physical therapist, some from the Scottish physio), in part from the walking.

Book News: Of course, since no draft of a poem or a picture book is EVER done, I went over THE EMILY SONNETS several more times. And I will continue to do this until we have an actual offer on the table.

Wrote a few poems, one in answer to a challenge from friends at POETRY ALIVE when I said that I had a hair appointment on that day, and sometimes doing one’s hair is more important than a poem.

Sometimes a hair appointment
Is more important than a poem,
Style overpowering meter.
I ask them to edit my gray,
Add color to each line.
Yet unlike a good poem,
A good hair appointment only works
For a moment, covering the mind
Without illuminating it.
A poem can go on,
pretty much forever.
A new hair cut is pretty much over
Once I get my hands on it.

The start of a poem more than the finish, of course. Poems, as John Ciardi has famously said, are never finished, but abandoned.

I also worked on a new chapter of B.U.G. with Adam, added a couple of pages to my Border Collies picture book, twiddled (that’s a technical term) with the JEWISH FAIRY TALE FEAST book, worked over the first color proofs of the two DINOSAUR pets board books (one for cat, one for dog, sorry no hamsters, goldfish, guinea pigs, parrots, horses, etc.), and wrote a rhymed intro for a possible DINOSAUR joke book.

Not enough, you say? Hey, I had a life, too.

Life:

Of course, one of my Life duties had to do with Death. I went to Jim Ennis’ funeral. The actual Speak No Ill part was at the St Andrews Town Hall, and it was standing room only. I learned a number of things about him I didn’t know, most especially from his lifelong friend, Pat Cleary, a wonderful Irish raconteur. The burial was at the Dairsie church atop a huge hill, greens and golds everywhere, and sheep dotting the valley below. As the Humanist preacher spoke, birds were singing, sheep were baa-ing, and Jim’s tiny nine-week-old granddaughter slept peacefully or we could have had baby sounds as well. Rain threatened but never fell, though gray clouds scudded across the sky. The wake at the Old Course Hotel was never raucous ; only tea and coffee were served, not like an Irish wake at all, though I suspect that went on afterwards at the house. But I was exhausted from emotion and needed to do something for me. So I took myself off to see “Ice Age 3” which was just silly enough to do the trick.

I know the long trek Elaine has now, being 3 1/ 2 years on my own road. Widows of good marriages are both comforted by that history and chained by it. I promised Elaine I would be there for her, and will be. Right now she needs her children and grandkids close. She is off for a week to one of their houses. I will see her when she returns.

Had dinner with several friends at different intervals, and tea at the wonderful Cheese Shop in Anstruther that overlooks a field with a bull called Evening Ben (I think) and beyond his field and his cows, is the Forth of Fife., and the Isle of May which was shining in the water that day. Behind us clouds were gathering. It didn’t rain until I was halfway back to Wayside, when it poured down heavily in Dunino, though the minute I got through that hamlet, it was dry again. Scottish weather—you have to love it!

My daughter has posted photographs of an exciting event back home. Lightning struck the huge fir tree that is lord of my back garden. Split quite a few pieces off, burrowed down to the pith, and sent the entire top of the tree spiraling backwards into her wild bird garden frontage. Luckily no one was out in the storm. Last year when I was gone from there, a bear sat on my porch. As one friend of mine said, “Next year the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse!”