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Houston, we have a problem

/ Tracy Abell

A few minutes ago I searched for something on my desk. I found what I wanted.

However, I also discovered a whole stack of stapled-together drafts of various scenes from two different projects plus a pile of chronologically-organized query versions for one of those projects. Clearly, I have a paper problem.

paper-problem

But even more distressing than the avalanche of paper that has become my life is the realization that all those pieces of paper had one thing in common: handwritten revisions.

What am I thinking? That the literary world will need those important documents for the museum created in my memory after I die?! That someday someone will publish a study of one of my books à la E.B. White and THE ANNOTATED CHARLOTTE’S WEB?!

I tossed all of them in the recycle bin.

 

 

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I grok grackles

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

Just found some photos Zippy took ten days ago.

grackles

There are five Common Grackles in this photo. Can you spot all of them?

I looked for a quote about grackles, but only found a poem by Ogden Nash which I chose not to copy here because of its serious anti-grackle ‘tude.

I’m a huge grackle fan. Ogden Nash fan? Not so much.

 

 

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Incessant buzzing

/ Tracy Abell

Because I finished my middle-grade revisions yesterday, I wanted to spend today zeroing in on a nonfiction project. So I sat down with the research books I’d checked out from the library a couple weeks ago and started reading. The topic I’d chosen was intentionally broad in the hopes that after pitching it, I’d be allowed to highlight different aspects in a series of books.

But my intentionally broad topic suddenly felt way-too-broad, and I knew I didn’t have the necessary enthusiasm to sustain me.

As I leafed through my nonfiction idea notebook, my brain started buzzing with other possibilities. So many projects had potential! So many projects sounded fun!

Buzzzz, buzzz, buzzzz……………..

My brain was overwhelmed by all those ideas and I needed to focus, damnit.

beekeeper-resized

So I put on a metaphoric beekeeper suit.

After donning that protective gear, I wasn’t nearly as troubled by the many buzzing possibilities, and I’m pleased to say I was able to zero in on an idea with a series potential. Bonus: it’s stuff I’m excited to write about!

file000779682486

Oh, happy day!

 

 

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First commit and then prevail

/ Tracy Abell

Yesterday I was tearing out my hair in frustration over my revisions. I struggled with a couple paragraphs for hours before finally calling it quits. I was in a pretty foul mood.

Today I returned to those paragraphs and am happy to report that the words cooperated. And I didn’t even have to bludgeon them into place.

Even better news is that I then spent the rest of the day going over the entire manuscript and am now ready to send it to a brand-new reader. Do you know what this means? This means I am five whole days ahead of schedule! FIVE WHOLE DAYS, people!

Bracelets

Bracelets made by Laura Hamor of Silver Freckles. Find her on Etsy.

What’s the key to my success?

As always, it comes down to two little words.

 

 

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Real feelings

/ Tracy Abell / 1 Comment

There’s a real feeling when you know you’re getting it right. It’s a physical feeling.
~  Robert Caro

pop_art_cartoon_ginger_woman_tearing_hair_out_-_154569740__medium_4x3

Yeah, but what about when you’re not getting it right? Huh? What’s that physical feeling called, Mister I’ve-won-multiple-Pulitzer-Prizes-and-National-Book-Awards??

Around these parts it’s starting to feel an awful lot like baldness.

 

 

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Hello, Monday

/ Tracy Abell

Took a cue from Marcel, and spent the day reading and revising in our patch of sunshine.

marcel-in-sun

Keep your face always toward the sunshine – and shadows will fall behind you.
~  Walt Whitman

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The eyes have had it

/ Tracy Abell / 1 Comment

After a revision-filled day, I’m pleased with my progress. In fact, if I pushed on for just one more hour, I’d probably make it to The End. But my eyes are screaming for a break and, since my peepers work very, very hard for me every single day, I owe them a respite.

file4831302548667

This lemur’s calling it a day.

 

 

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Can I get an amen?

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

I’ve made huge progress on my middle-grade revisions, and am ahead of schedule. Woot! My plan was to have the revision finished before leaving to visit my mother at the end of the month and, because I’ve kept to my pages-per-day commitment, I will succeed. And that feels very good.

However, I can’t help thinking about how much revision has gone into this particular project. Oy. It’s been a long, long haul.

crumpled-papers

But a wise children’s writer with WAY more experience than me once said:

Revision is the heart of writing.
Every page I do is done over seven or eight times.
~  Patricia Reilly Giff

It’s nice to know I’m not alone.

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Freewheelin’ Bob nabs the Nobel

/ Tracy Abell / 8 Comments

As has been documented here over the years, I’m a long-time Dylan fan, so wasn’t completely surprised when it was announced today that Bob Dylan has won the Nobel Prize for Literature. (Although, as I said in an email to a friend, I do wonder whether Bob should’ve been disqualified from consideration due to his Victoria’s Secret commercial years ago.)

Bob Dylan in November 1963 (Unknown [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons)

Bob Dylan in November 1963 (Unknown [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons)

Nonetheless, this year the committee chose to honor Bob Dylan’s work which, on a personal note, feels very fitting because Zebu is studying in Sweden right now. The award also feels fitting because of one Dylan song in particular that tragically never, ever goes out of style. For “Masters of War” alone, I’m good with Dylan winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Masters of War
Written by Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
’Til I’m sure that you’re dead

Copyright
© 1963 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1991 by Special Rider Music

Why me, creepy inflatables?

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

This morning I was in my living room when I felt eyes upon me. I looked up and out the window.halloween-decorations

I’d noticed these inflatable horrors in the new neighbors’ yard yesterday, but at that time the leering jack o’ lanterns and coked-out cat were oriented toward the street. Somehow, they’ve all pivoted a bit to the right so that they’re now staring across the street and directly into my living room window.

At me.

 

 

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Bunny Monday

/ Tracy Abell

This is what I saw out the window this morning, a bunny at rest. A symbol of calm in the universe.bunny-at-rest

And then as the bunny hopped to another position, I noticed this:torn-ear

I guess that’s to be expected.

Because nobody goes through life without a scar.
Carol Burnett

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Sunday melancholy

/ Tracy Abell

Zippy and I have been together a whole lotta years, but he still doesn’t get why I frequently** start feeling low at about 4:30 on Sunday afternoons. Zippy is one of those almost-Pollyanna types who maintains a pretty consistent emotional level. I guess you could say he’s even-keeled. (Except when he’s not, but that’s a whole other topic.)

Zippy’s obliviousness aside, plug “Sunday melancholy” into the Googles and you’ll get 761,000 hits. I’m not alone.

Somehow, that knowledge helps.

Image from Morguefile

Image from Morguefile

** I’m pleased to report that the melancholy has not yet hit me this afternoon.

 

 

 

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Thankful Thursday

/ Tracy Abell

Zebu and Wildebeest have been avid Spotify users for years, and now Zippy and I also have access to ALL THAT MUSIC.

It’s great to have a song pop in my head and then seconds later, I listen to it. It was years since I’d heard Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” and then the other morning her voice gave me chills.

Spotify is also great for quickly checking out bands and musicians I read about in Rolling Stone, plus I discover new music while listening to other people’s playlists. Case in point, Earl St. Clair. Spotify = MORE MUSIC TO LOVE.

But the absolute greatest thing about Spotify is how it’s rejuvenated my hoop dancing. In the dark ages, I’d cobbled together a playlist of songs that were mostly good for dancing within my hoop. And while Aretha Franklin’s “Rock Steady” and Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” are kick-ass hoop dancing songs, I was bored.

Doris Humphrey in her hoop many years ago.

Dancer Doris Humphrey (1895-1958)  in her hoop many years ago.

Enter Spotify.

I’m now the proverbal kid in the candy store. New songs every day to inspire my hoop dance. New favorites to sample again and again without fear of getting in a permanent rut.

So on this Thankful Thursday, I am grateful for:
my hoop,
all the incredible music that makes me want to dance,
and Spotify which makes it easy to do.

 

 

 

Peachy keen

/ Tracy Abell

peaches

I photographed these delicious organically grown peaches on the day that Zippy bought them at the farmers’ market way back in July, when the sun was still high in the sky and the days were long.

This morning I didn’t want to get out of bed because the house was cold. And even after doing my routine of exercise-yoga-hooping, I’m still chilly. My hands and feet are cold, and so is the tip of my nose.

Autumn is a truly beautiful season and I know it’s not yet winter, but today I’m feeling the cold and chill of what’s to come, and missing peach season.

 

 

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Chair sharks

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

This morning I settled into a chair to work. A while later, I got up for a coffee refill and returned to find an interloper:

loki-exposes-fangs

Loki bares his teeth to keep me from reclaiming the chair. (Actually, his black fur makes him ridiculously difficult to photograph which results in lots of these blurred “action” shots.)

In my family, we call that getting sharked. As in, “Loki just sharked my chair.”

Anyway, I was feeling generous so I moved to another chair, one that actually suited me better because it’s next to a window and big patch of warm sunshine, and worked there for some time. I then left to take care of something in another room and when I returned, found this:

marcel-in-sun

Marcel claiming my seat in the sun.

Sharked again!

Maybe I should bring the rocking chair up from the basement. I’ve heard that cats get real nervous around those . . .

 

 

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All does not suck

/ Tracy Abell

The bad news?
I’m suddenly feeling a bit rundown
and kinda puny
which is triggering pissed-off thoughts
such as
ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDING ME?
AUTUMN IS JUST BARELY, OFFICIALLY HERE
AND I’M ALREADY GETTING SICK?!

Sick person

The good news?
I’ve hit my page goal every day this week, including today,
which means that despite
the fact that humanity is failing on a global level,
(a hugely depressing truth that’s undoubtedly contributing to my
run-down
worn-out
had-enough-already
puny feelings),
 all does not suck.

happy-stick-girl

My plan of action?
Take it easy and repeat my new mantra:

ALL DOES NOT SUCK
ALL DOES NOT SUCK
ALL DOES NOT SUCK

 

 

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This gun for hire

/ Tracy Abell

Wildebeest’s first job was at Casa Bonita where he performed in skits while people sat poolside and choked down horrible “Mexican food.” The one time I visited the Denver-area landmark was to watch him in action and fortunately, because I ate no food, suffered zero digestive issues. I’m also happy to say that I very much enjoyed the show. One of the roles Wildebeest performed that day (and on a regular basis) was Black Bart.

f-at-casa-bonita

Here’s Wildebeest performing with Black Bart’s sister, Black Bertha.

Wildebeest loved his Casa Bonita job and has had several less-fun jobs since then. He now lives elsewhere and works part-time as a bellhop while going to school. He works in an historic hotel that puts on a melodrama in its theatre during peak season. The other day he was at work schlepping luggage for the guests (a job he truly enjoys) when a crisis arose: one of the regular performers for the melodrama hadn’t shown up. Management came to Wildebeest in a panic and said, “You’ve done gun fights before, right?”

He assured them he had, and then Wildebeest the Bellhop put on a costume and had a shoot-out on stage once again.

Moral of the story: you never know what part of your resume will come into play.

 

 

 

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