Archive for November, 2007

Posted in writing on 11/30/2007 by Susan Shay

Yesterday was wonderful. I picked Marilyn up at her house and we talked writing. We had Chinese for lunch, and talked writing and writers. We shopped and talked writing, writers and books. It was great. <g>

I don’t know about anyone else, but critiquing infuses life into my writing. I’m a better writer when I’m going to see the results in the form of a critique in just a few days. Kind of like holding my feet to the fire, I guess.

The shopping was super, too. The first shop we went into had an old sled. I’ve been looking for one for about 3 years. The only problem was the steering mechanism had cracked and hot glued. The saleswoman offered some greenery to cover it, but I didn’t want greenery. I want to put it on my porch, as if the kids have just come in from sledding. So she suggested I “drop” a scarf on it, stragically hiding the crack. Great idea! And since I just happen to knit, I can whip one out just for the sled.

“You knit?” The lady asked me to knit a few things to sell in her shop. Then, when she found out that Marilyn and I were both writers, she wanted us to put books in her shop. And she wants to have a signing for us!

Talk about a brilliant woman! 🙂

Today I’m taking Sister Amy to Tulsa to finish her Christmas shopping. (I’ve just barely started mine.) While we’re there, I’m hoping to find some yarn for my next stocking. Or to finish the one I’m on.

We’ll see if I get the chance.  

Why We Write

Posted in writing on 11/29/2007 by Susan Shay

I received my Dec ’07 OWFI REPORT yesterday, and one column in particular caught my eye:  Why We Write, by Nita Beshear. I don’t know Nita, but it’s an interesting column. In it, she profiles two writers, Charles Sasser and Dusty Richards.

I don’t know these guys. I might have heard Charles’s name a time or two, but I definitely know who Dusty is.

Mr. Sasser says he writes to keep from starving. Apparently he quit his job, moved into a shed (!) and started writing. “Now, several years, adventures and books later, writing is an ingrained habit . . . ”

Yeah. So’s eating.

Can you imagine quitting your job and moving into a shed in order to be a writer? No way. I’ll bet you the guy either wasn’t married when he made the decision or soon got that way. 🙂

The other man is Dusty Richards. He’s a heavy weight in OWFI circles, and has had lots of jobs while writing. Tyson Chicken, TV anchor, rodeo announcer and auctioneer to name a few.

I’m way more like Dusty than Charlie. I need more than four walls and a typewriter (okay, a computer) to fuel my imagination. I need people. Voices. Ideas. Places.

Oh, and television.

I need to be entertained. <G> Why do I write? Because I have these stories in my head and I need to do something with them.  I enjoy seeing the characters that pop into my mind grow into real people. I like seeing what happens to them in the end.

 On the back of The REPORT is a quote from Edna Ferber: “Only amateurs say that they write for their own amusement. Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth . . . But amusing? Never.”

To that I can only answer, Some people work hard; others just take it hard.

I enjoy writing, but hey, I enjoy working. I even enjoyed cleaning out my attic last weekend.

Joy comes from between your ears, not your circumstances. You have to live it.   

Feathered yet?

Posted in writing on 11/29/2007 by Susan Shay

Have you started sprouting feathers? I think I have. I love leftovers. Love to finish off the dressing, mashed potatoes, turkey and ham, but enough is enough!

I went on strike. No more leftovers! I wanted a burger, so I sweet talked my DH into taking me to Red Robin for a gourmet cheeseburger. Good stuff.

The next night we had Chinese. 🙂

The next, beans. (I’m not on strike from cooking, just Thanksgiving reruns.)

DH says he’s going to have Christmas catered. It’ll probably save $$ in the long run.

Naturally, while I was overdosing on turkey, I got a new idea for a story. *sigh* If I could just write as fast as my ideas come, I’d have it made. But there’s always something . . . .

Tomorrow afternoon I’m going to Sapulpa to meet bf Marilyn. Do a little lunch. A little shopping. And some critiquing. We used to get together every week or two for critique, but in the last year or so, there’s been way too much going on to get together that often. You can guess how excited I am about tomorrow!

I sent her 44 pages of Make Me Howl and 7 pages of the new story idea. (Right now I’m calling it Adrenaline Rush, but that’ll change, because I really don’t like that title.) It’s a romantic suspense, and I love the premise. I haven’t plotted it, which may be why I like it so much. I don’t know where I’m going.

I think it’ll be a kick.

Posted in writing on 11/23/2007 by Susan Shay

So how was your Thanksgiving? My was exhausting . . . which made it wonderful. Of course, I worry my socks off before hand, so I couldn’t sleep the night before. What had I forgotten? What dish hadn’t I planned to make that would disappoint someone? What ingredient had I forgotten to buy? (Cornstarch. Sigh)

At 5 a.m. I started preparing the turkey. Since I grow a lot of my own herbs, I’d decided to put the bird on a bed of sage for roasting in the oven. But (naturally!) I forgot to pick the sage. So at dark-thirty with the temperature about 20 degrees, I’m wearing my jammies and a pair of garden clogs, stumbling around outside with a flashlight and a pair of sissors. I had to burrow under the tomato plant that ate Dallas (at least it could have) to get to the sage. Luckily, big mama tomato had insulated the sage, so it wasn’t frozen.

I snipped a handful of sage, and ran for the warmth of the house. On the way I grabbed a branch or two of rosemary to add to the bouquet.

Once inside, I stuffed turkey-boy with apples and onions, put him to bed on the herbs and shoved him in the oven. I was in bed by 5:30 a.m.

When I came back down (about 9:00) it smelled just like when I was a kid and I’d wake up on Thanksgiving morning. I half expected to see Mama at the stove, working away.

Mom wasn’t here for the day, but my immediate family was, and they didn’t act disappointed about anything the entire day . . . except having to help with clean up. But never fear, I finished the job.

Now . . . for the leftovers. 

Posted in Uncategorized on 11/21/2007 by Susan Shay

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Posted in Uncategorized on 11/21/2007 by Susan Shay

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Posted in Uncategorized on 11/21/2007 by Susan Shay

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