Author: Tracy Abell

Knotty problem

/ Tracy Abell / 3 Comments

I’m revising my middle grade manuscript and am having one of those HOW WILL I EVER DO THIS? days. Today’s revision session felt like one cold, hard realization after another. As in, “Wait a minute, if I move that chunk earlier in the story, that will blow up this part of the story” or “When I cut this scene, where do I put this one snippet that absolutely needs to remain in the story?” or the evergreen “Damn, if I tug this thread it will *sob* unravel throughout the entire story.”

Image by LeoNeoBoy from Pixabay

The good news is that I wrote a tight draft. The bad news? The tighter the draft, the larger the repercussions during revision.

I’ve been moving back and forth in the timeline so much today I’m not even sure what’s what anymore. Definitely time for me to stop and let my brain reorient itself.

Eviction ban on the way!

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I sat down to blog about porcupine quills and my dear old husky, Flaco, when the group chat for the eviction defense group blew up. Why? Because it looks as if the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) is preparing to issue a federal evictions ban effective September 4 –December 31, 2020, for those making less than $99,000/year.

Chat reactions were variations of “this would be amazing!” I wholeheartedly agree. As I also noted in the chat, it’s an indictment of our society that we’re viewing a common sense and humane move as “amazing,” but that’s how low they’ve set the bar.

Renters and those with mortgages are still liable for back rent, penalties, interest, etc. It is definitely a good step, but because it doesn’t include a cancellation of rent and mortgage, people are going to be hit hard at the end of the year.

Scroll down to page 34 at the end of the document for the DECLARATION UNDER PENALTY OF PERJURY FOR THE CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION’S TEMPORARY HALT IN EVICTIONS TO PREVENT FURTHER SPREAD OF COVID-19. This must be signed and given to the landlord.

Image by AliceKeyStudio from Pixabay

Forget the porcupine quills, I’m going with a red rose.

 

 

Befuddled

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It’s 6:00 pm. How did that happen?! But the more pressing question is: why did the photographer who posted this photo on Pixabay tag it with “joy”?

Image by Art Skoo from Pixabay

Depending on your perspective, various words could describe this little boy’s expression and body language. Possible interpretations? I think he could be dazed, sad, tentative, or demoralized. Heck, maybe his arm’s tired from holding that plane and he’s just worn out. Nowhere do I see evidence of joy.

Anyway, I popped into WordPress-land to post something before this day completely passed me by and instead of a quick in-and-out, I spent twenty minutes analyzing this photo.

Hmm. Maybe there’s a lesson here for where the day went . . .

The party’s over

/ Tracy Abell

Typically, I attempt to photograph wildflowers so they are recognizable if not identifiable. But as I quickly scanned images from a year ago when I hiked to Square Top Lakes with Laura Perdew, this was the one that caught my eye.

August 28, 2019

What is it? An alpine aster, but I only know this because of the other flowers in the frame. This, though, was my favorite representation. The curled petals remind me of those rolled-up paper noisemakers that unfurl and then roll up again.

It seems the party’s over for this aster. But is this flower past its glory? Not to my eyes.

Thankful Thursday: memories edition

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We’re still in lock-down mode here in Colorado as the wildfires continue to burn. Air quality is poor (although a bit better after a tiny rain episode yesterday) and I’m staying inside. Instead of walking Emma this morning, I opted for a hoop-dance session in the living room.

Horse Gulch Trail, Durango, CO. July 31, 2019

And rather than going on an actual hike, I’m reliving one from July of 2019 when Zippy, Emma, and I visited elder-son Wildebeest. I remember that hike. It was quite hot that day, but still very nice to be out and about in nature.

I’m looking forward to the day we can do it again.

Let it snow

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February 7, 2020

Colorado continues to burn and those of us living along the Front Range are being told to create “safe rooms” with air purifiers.

It was undoubtedly a stupid thing to do, but Zippy, Emma, and I walked early this morning. We’ve been trapped inside for days and couldn’t take it any more. I wore my mask and we walked at a leisurely pace. No heavy breathing as we went up and down the hills of our neighborhood. Partway through the walk, Zippy remarked on the thick air and put on his mask. Overall, we felt okay.

Just now, though, I stepped outside to get the mail. I was only out about thirty seconds, but as soon as I came inside the coughing started. I’m now closed off in my writing room with the purifier. The coughing has subsided but my lungs are burning.

Colorado had a Senate candidate (Andrew Romanoff) who centered his campaign on the climate crisis and a Green New Deal. He understood what’s at stake in this climate emergency. So how did the Democratic establishment respond? Chuck Schumer, Elizabeth Warren, and Colorado’s governor (Jared Polis) stepped in to crush Romanoff in the primary and prop up the oil and gas candidate (John Hickenlooper). Thanks to their interference, this November I’ll have the “opportunity” to vote for Hickenlooper (and Biden). Basically, a ballot filled with candidates who’ve  made it clear they don’t much care about the people or the planet.

The most I can hope for at this point is that the wildfires are contained by the general election.

Scattered

/ Tracy Abell

As is typical for me these days, I had to give myself a pep talk to get out of bed this morning. After making it to an upright position, the day turned into one thing after another. Small things that demanded my attention and action, but nothing of substance. I have zero sense of accomplishment or completion.

This entire hot, smoky Monday I’ve felt scattered, unfocused, and non-productive. Weepy, screamy, and anxious. Overheated, overwhelmed, and over it all.

I wish it would rain.

Just ducky

/ Tracy Abell

Mallards in Clearwater, FL. May 4, 2019.

If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family anatidae on our hands.         ~ Douglas Adams

ETA: Used this quote a little over a year ago. Oops. Knew I liked it.

Guinea pigs for the win

/ Tracy Abell

I keep meaning to write a funny post about magpies and the neighbor’s dog, complete with lots of photos I took several days ago. But my energy level’s still not there (in large part because we haven’t been able to open windows today due to wildfire smoke which means the house is approximately two hundred degrees).

Instead, I went to Pixabay and found a photo that made me smile.

I hope these little pigs also bring you a smile.

Eviction is an act of violence

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

This pandemic continues to expose the many holes in our inhumane, capitalism-obsessed society. We’re about to see an enormous surge in the numbers of people who are unhoused. Those figures were already shameful and they’re about to become catastrophic. For the last three days, I’ve worked with the Denver chapter of Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) as a housing advocate offering support to those facing eviction. The stories I’ve heard made me scream, rage, cry, and cry some more.

Image by Rusty Gouveia from Pixabay

Silly me, I thought it made sense to encourage an elderly couple infected with covid to emphasize their health issues during their eviction hearing in order to buy time before they were forced to move out. Wrong. I listened in yesterday during their virtual court hearing as the husband described the difficulties of his health issues and then reminded the judge that it was against public health and safety to put covid-positive people out on the street. Was the judge affected by this sound argument? Not at all.

The good news is that their eviction notice/notice to quit was served incorrectly and now the process starts over. That will buy the couple time to, I hope, recover before they’re forced from their home. That’s considered a victory in this hellscape reality.

I’m waiting to hear back from a young couple who had their eviction hearing this afternoon. There are three generations living in that apartment and the family has been desperately searching for a new place to live ever since getting their notice to quit. There’s nothing out there for them.

Tomorrow is the hearing for two brothers. One lost his job at the start of the pandemic, but the other still had a job with reduced hours which allowed them to hang on by a thread. Then second one lost his job when the employer couldn’t hold on any longer. Their unemployment benefits took so long to be processed they are now facing eviction. They spent all of July looking for a new home but, surprise surprise, no one wants to rent to two unemployed people.

In both cases, the tenants had always paid their rent on time and tried to arrange payment schedules during this hard situation. Didn’t matter. The landlords are determined to kick them out in the street during a pandemic.

We are a broken society. There is nothing great about a country that not only allows this kind of abuse but intentionally puts laws on the books that inflict trauma on its citizens. Eviction is an act of violence.

It is way past time to rise up.

Welcome, green

/ Tracy Abell

This photo of my front flower bed contains invasive stuff. Grass, Creeping Bellflower, and whatever tree-start that is. Do I mind? No. Not when everywhere I look outside it’s hot and dry and brown and smoky and yucky.

July 16, 2020

I welcome all shades of green.

Wishful thinking

/ Tracy Abell / 3 Comments

I spent the day in bed reading a Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin detective novel. A wise choice for my physical and mental health, I think. Why? The wildfires continue to rage in Colorado and when I checked my phone at one point today, the weather alert said “91 degrees. Smoky.”

So, it’s no shock that when I dipped into Pixabay just now in search of an image that resonated, I landed on this:

Image by Muhammad Ridha from Pixabay

Tonight I shall dream of rain.

Colorado’s on fire: we need a #GreenNewDeal

/ Tracy Abell / 3 Comments

I live in Colorado. There are currently four wildfires burning around the state. Here’s a tweet from a Colorado journalist this morning:

I can usually see downtown Denver from my front yard. The last few days the buildings have been obscured by a smoky haze. Right now, I can see the tops of some buildings. But that “good news” is deceptive. I just spent about ten minutes outside, thinking it was okay because there wasn’t a strong odor of smoke. Wrong. I’m now coughing and my lungs are burning.

Just over a year ago, I participated in our Sunrise Movement hub’s first art build. We gathered to create a banner to pressure the Colorado Democratic Party to vote for a presidential debate focused solely on climate.

Our first art build on July 24, 2019. Boulder, CO

Our pressure worked and the representatives for the CO Dems voted YES to a climate debate. However, Tom Perez and the Democratic National Committee shut down our voices. There was no climate debate during the presidential primaries, despite the fact that the majority of people in the U.S. want meaningful action on the climate crisis.

Only two presidential candidates (Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren) included serious climate plans in their platforms. Bernie’s earned an A- from Sunrise Movement. The presidential candidate the establishment contorted themselves to install as the party nominee? Well, Joe Biden earned an F-.

My state’s experiencing a years-long drought and record-high temperatures and is literally on fire right now. Except for Rep. Joe Neguse, none of the Colorado congressional delegation supports a Green New Deal. The Democratic representatives all understand that climate change is real, but unless they push for bold and meaningful action, they are no better than the climate deniers in the Republican party.

Meanwhile, Colorado burns.

All hail the king

/ Tracy Abell

Western Kingbird. Grand Island, NE.   6.2.20

The U.S. Senate just adjourned until September 8 without passing a stimulus package. They’re going back to their comfortable homes and lives, oblivious to the pain and suffering of the peasants. If we’re going to be ruled by an entitled aristocracy, I’d prefer to bow down to a feathered king.

Highlight reel

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Emma the doggo and I walked on the trails this morning. At one point, as she snuffled at the many odors in the vegetation, something caught my eye. I got a brief glimpse of big ears and two eyes of a creature peering at me from behind a bush farther up the trail. We remained motionless, staring at one another. As my brain tried to process what I was seeing, I blinked, and the animal was gone. I’m pretty sure it was a coyote, although much smaller than this one.

By g’pa bill – Coyote Dad, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22832337

Emma didn’t even notice the coyote, but as we advanced up the trail her sniffing became even more urgent. I searched the surrounding area: no sign of what I’d seen. I could almost believe I imagined the whole thing, but every time I close my eyes I picture the fur, the intense eyes, and those enormous ears.

Definitely the highlight of my day.

Shopping List: amended

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

Yesterday morning I added “binder clips” to the shopping list. Because even though years ago I’d purchased a large package of assorted clips, they’d somehow disappeared, one by one. Time to restock.

Fast forward a couple hours: I decided to do some de-cluttering and focused my efforts on my manuscript boxes. Or, as in the case of the first two books I ever wrote: manuscript bins. When I first began writing novels, I thought “revision” equaled “editing,” and had printed out multiple copies of the full manuscript each time I “revised” even though my “revisions” were typically line edits. (Yes, I was a clueless newbie.) As a result, it required one 66-quart bin each to hold the many copies of those first projects. It didn’t help that I’d made another newbie mistake and wrote in Courier New font which is a big and ugly font that required more pages. Those manuscripts were voluminous! Well, I’m happy to announce those projects are now stored in letter-sized cardboard boxes.

The good news is that I understood revision better on the next two novels I wrote and, instead of bins, the stuff I’d printed out “only” required two letter-sized boxes each. Four boxes for two manuscripts. A definite improvement, but why so many pages? Apparently, I was anticipating school visits in which I’d show students samples of my revision process. In addition to the full manuscripts I’d printed out along the way, I’d also saved many, many chapters with crossed-out lines, inserted phrases, and arrows pointing to new paragraph placement. Proof of the revision process, man.

Really, Tracy?

By late afternoon, the back of my Subaru was filled with boxes of paper I’ll take to the recycling center. And now every single book I’ve written is stored in its own tidy cardboard box and stacked in my writing room closet. It’s like a happy reunion of my creative process because the projects in the bins were formerly stored in the basement!

And that shopping list? Binder clips → Binder clips.

Because guess what was holding together all the chapters and manuscripts in those bins and boxes?

Phlox R Us

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

This spent phlox is a pretty accurate representation for how I’m feeling today.

August 6, 2020

Bloomed out.
Worn out.
Depleted.

But just as this hardy perennial will  gather its resources in order to bloom again in the future, so will I. Hopefully, it won’t take me until next summer to do so.

YES to beer NO to fascism

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Two days ago, a neighbor a couple houses up the street started flying one of those TR*MP Keep America Great flags. It made me ill. Yesterday, the house across the street from that flag-flying home displayed their own Keep America Great flag. Today? The house next to that second house is sporting a Tr*mp yard sign.

I can’t even.

Shall we begin with the fact that this country, built on genocide and slavery, was never great for a whole lot of people? Or the blatant transfer of money and power to the already rich and powerful? Maybe the rollback of environmental regulations and climate denialism? The deployment of Homeland Security to crack protestors’ heads and shoot them in the faces? Or maybe the 1,000 COVID-19 deaths per day? Etc., etc., etc.? Great, indeed.

My reaction to the neighbors? I wanted to fly an Antifa flag, but Zippy worried the ignorance surrounding that message would result in violence directed at us. So what was his preferred message? F*ck Tr*mp. While I approve that sentiment, this moment is much larger than that loathsome individual. Negotiation ensued.

I’m pleased to announce I found a message we’re both happy to display.

I also ordered an Earth flag to replace the one we displayed during the invasion and occupation of Iraq. Many people in our neighborhood fly U.S. flags and I doubt they’ll even see past all their red, white, and blue, but that’s okay. An earth flag will help me remember we’re all in this together.

ETA: Here’s something from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum:
12earlywarningsignsoffascism

Does any of this sound familiar?

Busy bee

/ Tracy Abell

I got out of bed at 7:20 this morning, which is early for me (I know, I know), because I had a call scheduled with my agent to discuss revising my middle grade novel. The good news is that although there’s much work ahead of me, I’m excited about this book again.

Bee on Fern Bush. August 4, 2020

Before the call, I felt zero enthusiasm. I couldn’t imagine how I’d revise this book in a way that would satisfy my agent’s (valid) concerns while remaining true to my vision. Fortunately, my agent has a keen editorial eye and made several excellent suggestions that give me a path forward. I’m so relieved! So happy!

Now, all that’s left to do is the actual work. HA! This busy bee needs to get revising.