Summer Reading
First, this happened. Always exciting to have something published in a journal as great as Prairie Fire, to have a respected writer like contest judge Wayne Grady say complimentary things about your writing, and to keep such exciting company.
As I mentioned previously, I have picked up a houseguest and have been "on vacation," which is a stay-cation next door, at our camp. Except for showers. But before that, I had a bit of a writing retreat. It wasn't long, but it was useful. I actually started when I left here, because I "primed the pump" by reading through notes on the project, then mulled them over on the six-hour drive, and jumped right in when I arrived. Yes, I'd do it again, and for a whole weekend.
I've also learned the hard way that beach read-type books aren't necessarily my preferred summer reading. I bought one with beach umbrellas on the cover because I felt as if I should, but I could predict too much of the story, the end included grafted-on "meaningful" pieces, and basically I didn't enjoy the experience. So I'm back to my normal "to be read" pile, which includes lots of things that make me think.
In other news, summer has arrived. Warm days--some dry, some not--and nights that still try to be cool. I'm madly making notes about things I forget during the long cold spells. (Like how much grows up within two feet of the ground. Just when I have thought everything was fully leafed and summer was here, up pops grass and bunchberries and all sorts of undergrowth.) However, I suspect whatever I write won't seem real in February, just as it's difficult today to remember what this place looks like covered in ice and snow.
Speaking of ice...I wonder if we have any popsicles!
As I mentioned previously, I have picked up a houseguest and have been "on vacation," which is a stay-cation next door, at our camp. Except for showers. But before that, I had a bit of a writing retreat. It wasn't long, but it was useful. I actually started when I left here, because I "primed the pump" by reading through notes on the project, then mulled them over on the six-hour drive, and jumped right in when I arrived. Yes, I'd do it again, and for a whole weekend.
I've also learned the hard way that beach read-type books aren't necessarily my preferred summer reading. I bought one with beach umbrellas on the cover because I felt as if I should, but I could predict too much of the story, the end included grafted-on "meaningful" pieces, and basically I didn't enjoy the experience. So I'm back to my normal "to be read" pile, which includes lots of things that make me think.
In other news, summer has arrived. Warm days--some dry, some not--and nights that still try to be cool. I'm madly making notes about things I forget during the long cold spells. (Like how much grows up within two feet of the ground. Just when I have thought everything was fully leafed and summer was here, up pops grass and bunchberries and all sorts of undergrowth.) However, I suspect whatever I write won't seem real in February, just as it's difficult today to remember what this place looks like covered in ice and snow.
Speaking of ice...I wonder if we have any popsicles!