Last night I went to the final Novel Writing Class at Karen's. It was
my turn to submit and I'm amazed to tell you that I have almost
10,000 words (goal is 80,000 or so) done. Ellen continues to search
for the killer of her husband Seth and even though I wasn't "feeling
it" for the last several weeks, my fellow students and teacher were
so very complimentary that I'm gung ho once again.
I have never accumulated so many words and I have learned so much.
They all loved my To Do List in the story which helped me propel
through some scenes when I was stuck. Here from my teacher:
"I love Ellen's voice so much. I think I'd read very far into her story
with very little happening, just to listen in on her thoughts and
On January 23rd I begin another Novel Writing class - this one
through the Writing Salon. And who is the teacher? Karen!
Oh, yes, you'll want to know that Ellen is resuming her blog -
it will lead to some clues and will focus on Seth and their
long and less than perfect marriage.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
|cold and wet outside the Legion of Honor|
|inside = warm|
|inside = warmer with books|
some reading and list making. These are the rare days when I don't contemplate
retirement and of course Husbando loves his solo time at home. Dinner is
waiting when I return from the battlefield and I do so love that.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
rainy day. It is obviously not gluten-free so I need to stop and
get some peppermint bark to help me through the wheat fields
(or whatever that scratchy stuff is) while I indulge in baseball
in December. Thank you, Mad Bum.
Monday, December 15, 2014
red and white blanket under the saddle, but it's there. It's Monday and the
rain is here again - I need to feed some dogs at the SPCA and then attack
my holiday cards. I've been dawdling this year...
Sunday, December 14, 2014
|fake grass over subway construction site|
|santas watch the ice skaters|
|a sea of santas|
hit the downtown and had a delightful time. This Santa tradition is mostly
a pub crawl, but it was early and they were all gathering and milling about.
Then I walked down the newly remodeled Market Street to Valencia Street
(Valensha Tanya) and kept walking almost all the way home until I hopped
on a Muni for the last lap. The rains start again tomorrow, so I wanted to
walk while I still could. Oh, I saw a bunch of drunk santas inside a bar on
Mission Street in the afternoon, so all was as it should be. I love SF.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Coastal Java Shack
I decide to clock out,
stop at this waterfront bistro
I've driven past dozens of times,
carry a steaming dark roast
to the window,
on the house speakers,
from the lockbox of thought.
I sink into the soft swallow
of an armchair
at the edge of a room
quiet with people
staring at laptops,
and stare at a sailboat
on its low-tide side
but what makes me focus
are two pigeons
that land on the dock planks
a few feet away—
or shit birds,
some people call them,
but a bird
that can roll a 360
to escape the plunge
of a peregrine.
With every step,
they cock their heads,
better to see.
Pinkish red feet,
with a black dot at the center,
a shiny iridescence.
In bird books
they're "rock doves,"
and I'm seeing
the two homers,
Penny and Phil,
I kept as a kid
in a loft atop our garage.
I released them once
at my grandfather's farm.
They circled, then flew
the twenty-five miles,
making it home
before we did
in my father's new Ford.
I'm there and here
at the same time,
just watching the pigeons.
The Sewanee Review