My valentine's Day column : Jane and Bruce MacIntyre

Jane and Bruce MacIntyre: | SeacoastOnline.com

The Next Big Thing

This is The Next Big Thing, an ever-expanding game of "blog tag" in which writers answer the same (or variations on the same) ten interview questions about their recent writing projects. 

I was tagged by Kathleen Clancy, whose blog is Cartographers of Randomness. In her Next Big Thing post, Kathleen answered questions about her work progress, a series of sonnets, called Robbing the Dollhouse. Her answers to the ten questions can be found at http://kathleenclancypoetry.blogspot.com/ .

Below, I answer interview questions about my book-in-progress, and after that you'll find a link to the blog of the wonderful writer who accepted my invitation to be "it" next week.

the ten questions

1. What is the working title of your book (or story)?
It’s called Holy Buckets.

2. 
Where did the idea come from for the book?


It is a merging of several ideas that I had been mulling over for quite awhile. I wanted to tell the story of what it is like to teach in a public school, I wanted to tell the story of the neglected young war veteran, and I wanted to write about gun violence. They all merged together in this novella.
3. What genre does your book fall under?


Contemporary literary fiction.
4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I really don't know. Maybe Saoirse Ronan and Ryan Gosling....

 
5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

     This is a cautionary tale of what can go wrong when a society fails to care for its most vulnerable citizens.

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? (if this applies - otherwise, make up another question to answer!)
 

While I would love representation I have chosen to publish it myself as an ebook and will be doing so very soon.
7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?


This one came fast, about one year to write the first draft, and another to rework it.
8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?


I don't think there are any that come close, which is one of the primary reasons that I chose to write it. I know Jodi Picoult has written a novel about a school shooting but I haven't read it yet, so am not sure how comparable it would be.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?


No person in particular. Working with children was a big impetus, and my personal concerns about the unmet mental health needs of our war veterans, and the glut of guns in our culture.
10. What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

This is everybody's story. It could happen anywhere in America, to anyone, and involves issues that we all need to think about. I hope it is a conversation starter. I especially hope that teachers and veterans and those that love them will feel that the story advocates for them..

who's "it" next week?

Next week, please check out The Next Big Thing post from:

Terry Farish who will be posting at http://elephantrag.blogspot.com/ about her current work.

Poems!

     In the last week or so I have had five poems accepted for publication, and received only one reject letter. That is a really nice change of pace!
      Four poems will appear in an anthology coming out later in the year, so more about that when I know more. The poem linked below was published today.

http://theyogadiaries.net/2013/02/11/the-ascension-of-my-messy-mind/

Crossing one Off!

      I have been accepted!

     "We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to A Room of Her Own’s 2013 Retreat, slated for August 2013, at Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, NM.  Your presence alongside other compelling women writers will make this an unsurpassed week of inspiration and opportunity.  We look forward to a truly collaborative experience."

     I could not be more excited. This is thrilling to me in so many different ways. You will be hearing much more about this in the coming months, of course.

Photo by lucinda.net

Call for Artists

     I vow that on this date next year my children's book about Reverend King will be in some stage of publication. I have been working on it for years and it is ready to go. For the last few years I had been trying to woo a particular local black artist to be the illustrator, but that seems unlikely to happen. I am now looking for another local (preferably Portsmouth, NH) artist of color who might like to work on a children's picture book. The illustrations would include likenesses of Reverend and Mrs. King, but would need to be simple and colorful. Anyone interested please contact me for further details.

Seeking the next Po'town Poet

The Portsmouth Poet Laureate Program is seeking Portsmouth’s 9^th Poet Laureate. Portsmouth’s Poet Laureate “builds community through poetry” by creating a project and being the public face of poetry in the community. Past Poet Laureates have placed poetry and public art throughout the city, created CDs and anthologies, and engaged audiences through poetic, theatrical, and musical performances. 

Community members are invited to submit names for the next Poet Laureate. Names may be submitted through a letter or e-mail and should include the full name of the nominee and current contact information. Self-nominations are acceptable.

Candidates must live in one of 12 eligible towns (or work at least half-time in Portsmouth) and be well-suited to the role of Portsmouth Poet Laureate. Eligible towns are Portsmouth, Dover, Durham, Greenland, New Castle, Newfields, Newington, Newmarket, North Hampton, Rye, and Stratham, NH, and Kittery, ME.

Every nominee will be contacted to confirm whether he or she wishes to be considered. Those choosing to go forward will be sent an application packet to complete. The Poet Laureate Selection Committee will review all nominee application packets in March 2013 and will select the next Portsmouth Poet Laureate, who will be announced at a Portsmouth City Council meeting in early April 2013. The Poet Laureate serves for two years. 

Please submit nominations from now through February 15 to PPLP at PO Box 1196, Portsmouth, NH 03802 or info@pplp.org. For more information about the Portsmouth Poet Laureate Program or past laureates and their projects, visit http://www.pplp.org

50k!!

     I will pass fifty thousand words today. A rather monumental milestone for me.
     But I wonder, will I ever stop revising? I've been at this for a year.

'Children need to know this story'

Tea for Two: Marian Gerrish Craig: 'Children need to know this story' | SeacoastOnline.com

Newtown Nightmare

      I had a Newtown Nightmare the night before last. I'm not sure if it is the first dream on the subject as I don't usually remember my dreams (a result of sleep disturbance I have had for the last several years). This one woke me up. I couldn't get back to sleep then despite it being only 4 AM. The dream stuck with me since, and I decided to write about it. Maybe then it will leave me alone. A school shooting occurs in the novel I am currently trying to sell, so it affects my writing in several ways. Still I concede, as with most dreams, this is just weird.

     The dream opened in the reception area of a college. I felt as if I was one of the many students present in the room. A young Ryan Secrest kind of guy was working behind the counter and we were all looking to him to provide us with information. The mood in the room was happy and unafraid. Ryan-guy acquired a newspaper out of nowhere and began to cry much like Tammi Faye Baker used to. Little girl geysers and a mouth moving wordlessly. Still in a happy mood, and apparently feeling quite comfortable there even with the tears, I jumped up on the counter (sliding and sitting not standing) and spun the paper around so I could read the headline, which said something like, "The Shooter is in the Building". Once I read it to myself everyone knew what it said and meant, and all began to scramble. I tried to leave the building but armed guards wouldn't let me go.
     I began to occupy a series of hiding places, mostly little Harry Potter closet kind of spaces, and usually I was alone, though at one point the setting began to look a lot like the RiRa, (a local old bank turned Irish pub) and I was insisting that "we should get in the vault". In one of my hiding places I spent considerable time texting my last wishes to my father (who does not text).
     Eventually, I was watching out the window at a rather generic cobble-stoned quad, when the shooter took out three soldiers who all were pointing impotent guns at him. I watched them fall like three bowling pins. The shooter, in blazing white sneakers, stepped forward his gun still pointed at others, and I think by only the element of surprise, a little girl, about eight years of age, stepped out of a small crowd, fired a hand gun, and took the shooter down.

     What do you make of them apples?

Bucket List Business

      When the year closes in I experience an oppressive feeling of accountability that sometimes propels me to get something done. For me as I age, many of my goals have become bucket list entries. I am well aware how short life can be and know that I should buckle down about my bucket list. So far I have been much better about adding things to the list instead of crossing them off. I have gotten a few done, but not as many as I'd like.
      This morning I finished a very full-hearted attempt to cross one off. I have long desired to secure "A Room of her Own", a spot in the very competitive writing retreat for women held each August at Georgia O'Keeffe's ranch in northern New Mexico. Chances are, of course, that I won't get in, but my application has been submitted, and sits somewhere under the vast starry skies that blanket Ghost Ranch. It may become part of the bone pile there, and that will be okay too. It is done.
     http://www.aroomofherownfoundation.org/retreat_2013.php

Summer Days by Georgia O'Keeffe, 1936.

After the Crash

     Last week at my local Indie bookstore (RiverRun Books) I went to see and hear Carolyn Roy-Bornstein, MD give a reading from her memoir Crash, A Mother, a Son, and the Journey from Grief to Gratitude. (Skirt! 2012) Her soft-spoken talk intrigued me enough to part with $23. I really wanted to read her story about dealing with TBI. Maybe there would be something in there that would help me now that I am dealing with TBI. I have finished the book. It is quite a bit better than the banal title implies. Dr. Bornstien writes well, probably from a lifetime of journaling, and shares the story of her son's accident and its aftermath honestly and at times, eloquently. Though the book is written by a medical doctor, it is a mother's story more than anything else. Here is a sample that appealed to me;
     "Maybe he needs to feel the cruelty of the situation full on, not softened by a mother's touch. Maybe he has to feel it like a cutter has to feel a knife against her skin. Because pain makes things real. Whatever the reason, his memory is what it is. I have finally come to realize that it has nothing to do with me. It is his reality and part of his healing and his journey back. And I have to honor it."
     I especially like her conclusion, though maybe it is inevitable, the only conclusion we can come to when tragedy touches us...
     You can learn more at Carolyn's blog; http://carolynroybornstein.com/memoir/. 

On imperviousness and fighting chances

On imperviousness and fighting chances | SeacoastOnline.com

http://www.giveforward.com/forwarren

Belated Thanksgiving Post

Sarah Had A Little Wish

By Tammi J Truax

     Actually, that isn’t all too accurate. History shows that Sarah had a big wish, that she worked very hard to make it come true, and it did.

     The Sarah that I refer to is Sarah Josepha Hale, born in 1789 on East Mountain at Newport, New Hampshire. Her father, Gordon Buell, had been a revolutionary war captain. Her childhood there was typical for girls of the period, without a formal education. Her brother, Horatio, was atypical. Formally educated at Dartmouth, he in turn educated his sister at home, and she was a most willing pupil.

      Sarah is probably most well-known for writing the popular children’s rhyme, Mary Had a Little a Lamb, but it is probably the least of her accomplishments.

      At the age of 24 she married lawyer David Hale, and continued her home studies. Nine years later her husband died, and Sarah found herself without an income, four young children, and a fifth on the way.

     It wasn’t long before she saw her ability to write as a potential means of support, and with the assistance of her husband’s Freemason lodge, she published her first book; a collection of original poems titled The Genius of Oblivion. It was followed by her first novel, published in the US under the title Northwood: Life North and South. It made her well-known; as one of the first American women novelists and one of the first of either gender to write about slavery. A job offer as editor of the new Ladies’ Magazine resulted. Sarah accepted it and moved her young family to Boston.

     She did well in there and from the years 1837 to 1877 she was the editor of the very popular Godey’s Lady’s Book, sometimes called the Victorian bible of the parlor. It is still famous for its hand painted fashion plates.

     From her editorial positions the woman from a small New Hampshire town yielded considerable influence on the nation. Both in matters small and trivial, such as how to set the table, to matters large, that women often did not voice any opinion about.

     Ironically, Sarah denounced the growing women’s right movement, even as she did a great deal to advance it. Much of her lifetime’s work was clearly intended to promote higher education, professional career opportunities including in teaching and medicine, and social reform of all kinds for women, while heralding the importance and dignity of motherhood and homemaking.

     Overall though, her great loyalty was to her country. She worked tirelessly to ensure the completion of the Bunker Hill monument, for the preservation of Mount Vernon Plantation, and to give us something we should all be thankful for.

     Over a period of at least seventeen years, Sarah implored no less than five presidents to make Thanksgiving a national holiday. Previously it had been celebrated primarily in New England and at different times in different states. Sarah felt strongly that a national and official holiday would help to heal and unify the country after the civil war. Finally President Lincoln agreed and proclaimed it so in 1863. Clearly they were right, it still seems to be the one day of the year when we all come together as a nation, put our differences aside, and count our abundant blessings.

Here is the transcript of one of Sarah’s letters to the president:

Abraham Lincoln Papers at the Library of Congress. Transcribed and Annotated by the Lincoln Studies Center, Knox College. Galesburg, Illinois.
Courtesy Library of Congress.

Philadelphia, Sept. 28th 1863.

Sir.--

Permit me, as Editress of the "Lady's Book", to request a few minutes of your precious time, while laying before you a subject of deep interest to myself and -- as I trust -- even to the President of our Republic, of some importance. This subject is to have the day of our annual Thanksgiving made a National and fixed Union Festival.

You may have observed that, for some years past, there has been an increasing interest felt in our land to have the Thanksgiving held on the same day, in all the States; it now needs National recognition and authoritive fixation, only, to become permanently, an American custom and institution.

Enclosed are three papers (being printed these are easily read) which will make the idea and its progress clear and show also the popularity of the plan.

For the last fifteen years I have set forth this idea in the "Lady's Book", and placed the papers before the Governors of all the States and Territories -- also I have sent these to our Ministers abroad, and our Missionaries to the heathen -- and commanders in the Navy. From the recipients I have received, uniformly the most kind approval. Two of these letters, one from Governor (now General) Banks and one from Governor Morgan are enclosed; both gentlemen as you will see, have nobly aided to bring about the desired Thanksgiving Union.

But I find there are obstacles not possible to be overcome without legislative aid -- that each State should, by statute, make it obligatory on the Governor to appoint the last Thursday of November, annually, as Thanksgiving Day; -- or, as this way would require years to be realized, it has ocurred to me that a proclamation from the President of the United States would be the best, surest and most fitting method of National appointment.

I have written to my friend, Hon. Wm. H. Seward, and requested him to confer with President Lincoln on this subject As the President of the United States has the power of appointments for the District of Columbia and the Territories; also for the Army and Navy and all American citizens abroad who claim protection from the U. S. Flag -- could he not, with right as well as duty, issue his proclamation for a Day of National Thanksgiving for all the above classes of persons? And would it not be fitting and patriotic for him to appeal to the Governors of all the States, inviting and commending these to unite in issuing proclamations for the last Thursday in November as the Day of Thanksgiving for the people of each State? Thus the great Union Festival of America would be established.

Now the purpose of this letter is to entreat President Lincoln to put forth his Proclamation, appointing the last Thursday in November (which falls this year on the 26th) as the National Thanksgiving for all those classes of people who are under the National Government particularly, and commending this Union Thanksgiving to each State Executive: thus, by the noble example and action of the President of the United States, the permanency and unity of our Great American Festival of Thanksgiving would be forever secured.

An immediate proclamation would be necessary, so as to reach all the States in season for State appointments, also to anticipate the early appointments by Governors.

Excuse the liberty I have taken

With profound respect

Yrs truly

Sarah Josepha Hale,

Editress of the "Ladys Book"

      My research of Victorian thanksgiving menus such as Sarah would have espoused showed that our traditional foods really are traditional with just a few exceptions. I share the following recipe that was popular then which I think should be re-introduced, especially here in an oystering community. Happy Thanksgiving.

OYSTER FRICASSEE from the Boston Cooking-School Cook Book of 1896

1 pint oysters.
Milk or cream.
2 tablespoons butter.
2 tablespoons flour.
1/4 teaspoon salt.
Few grains cayenne.
1 teaspoon finely chopped parsley.
1 egg.

Clean oysters, heat oyster liquor to boiling point and strain through double thickness of cheese cloth; add oysters to liquor and cook until plump. 

Remove oysters with skimmer and add enough cream to liquor to make a cupful.

Melt butter, add flour, and pour on gradually hot liquid; add salt, cayenne, parsley, oysters, and egg slightly beaten.

(Tammi’s note: A dash or two of white wine may be added while cooking. Can be served this way as a first course soup, or can be baked with buttered cracker crumbs to be served as a side dish, but be sure not to overcook delicate oysters.)

Tammi Truax likes to write on the subjects of home, hearth, and history. She can be reached at T4tu@comcast.net.
 

Spirit Message from the Shakers

Can you solve this?

Spirit Message from the Shakers : Harriet Staff : Harriet the Blog : The Poetry Foundation

On Murdering Dolls

     Came across this artifact while doing research today for the book I am working on. I was thrilled to find it because previous research had indicated that the Shakers did not allow little girl believers to have any dolls. I had already written a section in my novel where they did, and I was afraid I would have to kill my darling dolls. This morning when I opened my document to commit the murder I couldn't do it, instead I found a way to justify keeping them in that I thought was historically plausible, and then later today found this proof that my instincts were at least partly correct. This dolly is owned by the Museums of Old York in Maine, the state where the Shaker sister who made it lived. It is a bit later than the period that I am writing about, but not very far off. I wish I could know more about her. What do you think of her?

What has been happening and not happening...

      Haven't been able to work in awhile. Took another one of those two-by-fours to the head that sometimes come my way, and my ability to concentrate has been cold cocked. I'll get it back, I always do. In fact, I may have to write my way out of this place. But right now I can't.
      I have wanted to blog about my writing retreat on Monhegan Island, just a few weeks ago that seem now so far behind me, as if all that good was left there when the ferry brought me back to the mainland. My productivity forgotten on the cliffs high atop the raging Atlantic. Up there, on top of those ragged cliffs, I often thought about the person who was then well, now lying in a bionic bed in the ICU at MGH in Boston. About how much he would love it there, and how he would see both the beauty and the danger there and would embrace both, probably too enthusiastically.
     I'll write about Monhegan soon, and get back to the novel that was coming along so well there, and I'll write about my friend too, someday.
      For now, one good thing I can report is that I am registered to attend the next AWP conference, as it is coming to Boston in 2013 and I can commute. It will be my first time, and I am very excited.

     I took this photo while I was hiking on Monhegan and asked my friend, Warren, if he would make me one. He said he would.

Column out this morning

http://www.seacoastonline.com/articles/20121101-LIFE-211010331

Listening

     I like going to author readings. I think of it as part of my work, and make an effort to attend them whenever I get the chance. Fortunately I live in a town that brings in some wonderful writers. Earlier this week I went to hear Salman Rushdie speak. He read from his memoir, Joseph Anton, which I haven't read yet. I look forward to reading it and will since I was forced to buy the book in order to attend the reading. He is an engaging, and of course, interesting speaker. Actually knows how to charm a crowd.
     A couple of the most memorable things he said were that his grandfather taught him that "nothing is off limits", a rather essential philosophy for a writer to embrace. Yet as with most matters related to good writing, sounds much simpler than it actually is.
     Two other things he said stuck with me because they were about fears, and I have the very same fears as Mr. Rushdie. Well, not on being executed, but these:
     He said if he didn't write about his life "it would destroy me". I know that feeling well. He also confided that his greatest fear is "writing bad books". I worry about that too, no one wants to write bad books. I find that the former fear overrides the latter, and maybe that is the way it has to be.
      Last night I went to hear a writer at my local indie bookstore. A writer I have met before, and whose career I admire, Joyce Maynard. She read from Labor Day and talked a lot about how she saw it as a movie even when she was writing the first draft. It was most interesting to hear her talk about applying the sense of sight to writing; visualizing scene and action. She gave me something new to think about, and I'm off to think about it right now...

Is charm part of the creative process? Both of these successful writers exude it.

Tea for Two

     This month marks the eighth anniversary of my column, Tea for Two, published in my hometown newspaper, The Portsmouth Herald, and partially archived at www.seacoastonline.com/columnists.
     When I chose that name for my column I wasn't aware of the song, popular before my birth, by the same name. I wanted the title to imply the way that the stories that I share in my column come to me; through one-on-one casual conversations like one might have with a neighbor.
     I have since come to appreciate the song, covered by many wonderful artists, and share this version with you. Happy Anniversay.

Talking to a haibun artist

Mimi White: 'Working with children is the best' | SeacoastOnline.com

One hundred thousand poets...

                                                http://youtu.be/CuZGuCmfB7A

     By now I hope you have heard of 100,000 Poets for Change, a global event of poets and musicians that will take place all over the world in simultaneous performances this Saturday September 29th. I am very happy to be one of the one hundred thousand. I will be featured reader this year at the Exeter, New Hampshire venue. Just one of dozens, my reading will take place at about 3:30 PM. I will be reading some original work, some of which I've never shared before. They include a brand new series of found poems from Holocaust literature. I hope you can attend the reading that is taking place closest to you. With hundreds of events planned in 115 countries that shouldn't be hard to do. Better yet join in!

http://web.mail.comcast.net/service/home/~/One%20Hundred%20Thousand%20Poets%20for%20Change%20-%20poster%20-%20Saturday%2C%20September%2029th.pdf?auth=co&loc=en_US&id=788961&part=2


Exeter Town Hall, 2nd floor in conjunction with The Vision and the Word
Saturday, September 29 12-4 PM
Sponsored in part by: Seacoast Peace Response, Veterans for Peace, The Poetry Society of New Hampshire, Social Justice Committee of the First Unitarian Universalist Society of Exeter, and
The Portsmouth Poet Laureate Program
For more information: bmoore628@comcast.net
Also, please visit: www.100tpc.org


    From event organizer Michael Rothenberg:

“What kind of CHANGE are we talking about?

The first order of change is for poets, writers, artists, anybody, to actually get together to create and perform, educate and demonstrate, simultaneously, with other communities around the world. This will change how we see our local community and the global community. We have all become incredibly alienated in recent years. We hardly know our neighbors down the street let alone our creative allies who live and share our concerns in other countries. We need to feel this kind of global solidarity. I think it will be empowering.

And of course there is the political/social change that many of us are talking about these days. There is trouble in the world. Wars, ecocide, the lack of affordable medical care, racism, the list goes on.

It appears that transformation towards a more sustainable world is a major concern and could be a global guiding principle for this event. Peace also seems to be a common cause. War is not sustainable. There is an increasing sense that we need to move forward and stop moving backwards. But I am trying not to be dogmatic. I am hoping that together we can develop our ideas of the "change/transformation" we are looking for as a group, and that each community group will decide their own specific area of focus for change for their particular event."

Mucky Murk

     I was out doing errands, driving along a long boring strip-malled stretch we call Route 1, and needed a lunch break. I was keeping an eye out for a tile store and somewhere good to get a quick bite to eat. Suddenly Betty's Kitchen caught my eye. Spontaneously swinging into the lot, I parked facing a lonely terrier tethered to a tree. He had the same unsure and hungry look in his eye as me, and we shared the sentiment for a moment. As I eyed him I thought about the last time I had been to this little country style diner. A quick math calculation using my son's age told me it had been about sixteen years. There were five of us then. Only three of us are still living today. My husband and mother wouldn't last much more than a year or two beyond that brunch. That day though they were healthy as young horses, and none of us could even imagine the cancer cells dancing inside of them even then. I took the deep, and relatively futile, cleansing breath I always take when my thoughts come to this, and walked in alone. I ordered some lunch, then leaned back to remember. But I couldn't. I pretty much couldn't remember anything. No details of that last visit would come back to me though I desperately wanted them to. Finally my food came to me, nothing else did.

      Not a single detail of my husband or my mother could I retrieve from the murky muck in my head. I couldn't remember where we sat or what we were wearing. I couldn't even remember what my little boy ate though I probably ordered for him. I couldn't even remember if we had a good time, or if my husband and mother tag teamed me as they often did, relishing in my inevitable indignation at their less then tender treatment of my various philosophies. I can't remember why we met there at all though I'm pretty sure it was at my Mom's request.
     This loss of details is what bothers me most now that I have become accustomed to living with the actual loss of them. It is as maddening as it is saddening. And I am afraid of what more my memory will let go of. The memories are all I have. If I had known then that in sixteen years time what we said, and felt, and wore, and ate for breakfast would be gone, erased, deleted, I would have held on tighter.
     You can not know when you come to the table that half of the people you are breaking bread with will be taken from you soon. If you did breakfast would be so very different...
     Maybe they wouldn't have teased me to teariness (if they did that time). Would I still have nagged him about his cholesterol (if I did that time)? Would we have let our son suck the jelly out of the little packets on the table (if he wanted to that time)? Would we have lingered longer over coffee? I hope so.
     I do have one memory of that morning that is very clear, and I cherish it.
     My mother and her friend followed us in our old Saab back to our little house in South Berwick. My mom was notoriously incapable of driving from one place to another without getting lost so it was imperative that we keep her in our sight. When we came to the Kittery traffic circle I remember my husband, Ian, suggested that we take a few extra revolutions around the rotary to confuse and amuse my mom. I vividly recall how I giggled with glee just as much from my shotgun seat as my now grown son did from his car seat.
      That's it. That is all that I remember. That one cherished memory. So I guess that's the moral of this story. Cherish more. And linger over coffee when you can.