Cleaning out the pantry

That's what we're doing this week. We took a short family trip over the holiday weekend and spent more dinero eating out than we normally do, of course. (Watch for blog post and photos on my other blog.) Between those expenditures and a quick trip to the store for necessities (i.e., my husband's coffee, yoghurt, and English muffins, and my diet drinks, salad greens, and one green apple, plus stuff to grill kabobs that night), we maxed out our weekly grocery money. Not to mention nobody felt like making a list, and this family never grocery shops without a list or it throws Todd into spasms.

So, I told him yesterday I was doing a Clean Out the Pantry Week. This novel idea came up some time ago when I made fun of Todd for going to the grocery story every single Sunday even when the food supplies looked good to me. He is just a creature of habit, and while I dearly love this about him because it keeps the house running, I also take some amusement in it. That day, I bet him I could create meals for at least a week, if not two, with only what we had on hand. And I did. Well, Of course. (Hey, I don't make bets I can't keep; I'm a sore loser!)

A couple of great things about Clean Out the Pantry Week:

First, it's amazing to see how much you really do have on hand and how long you could probably survive without a trip to the store. Second, it's fun to come up with more creative meals than you might otherwise. Normally, Todd and I (heavy on the Todd) make menu plans for the week, he buys the ingredients, and more often than not since I'm at home full-time, I cook, or at least get dinner started and we finish together. BUT (big but), I personally enjoy throwing random things together to make a meal. Okay, not always, but during COTP week, I do, I do! It's so ... freeing. Living on the edge.

Yesterday, I discovered a can of Manwich in the back of the pantry and knew we had frozen hamburger in the garage, so I figured we were all set. We didn't have buns, but who really needs buns? If all else failed, we had a loaf of bread. But ... we also had a leftover loaf of cheesy crusty artisan bread from Monday night. The wheels started turning, and it turns out Sloppy Joes on toasted leftover fufu bread are really tasty. Side of mac 'n cheese, can of green beans, and VOILA: dinner. Not many points for healthy, but I did use lots of colors, and my home ec teacher always liked that.

Tonight, I suspected we would have chicken nuggets, and my intuition was correct. But do you know how delightful chicken nuggets taste on a bed of salad greens garnished with sliced hardboiled eggs, bleu cheese, and crispy wonton strips? (Again, who needs healthy when it's COTP week?) And fruit salad a la our house--fruit cottontail, as Ryan called it when he was little, mandarin oranges, sliced bananas, and mini marshmallows.

Tomorrow is likely to be something with frozen chicken breast as supposedly, there are some of those in the garage. The marinade remains a mystery until the moment of submersion, and side dishes? Pshaw, there are so many waiting to be discovered, I will sleep soundly tonight.

Then it's Friday, and we never cook on Friday, so la-ti-da, I win again!

You see? COTP week 1 is no great sacrifice, and in fact, I think it's kinda fun. I am easily amused. Week 2 could be a bigger challenge if we don't get motivated to make that list.

And ... I'm going somewhere with this, for those of you who are wondering what this has to do with writing. Well, as I'm fond of saying, "In writing, as in life ..."

In writing, as in life, sometimes it's a good idea to do Clean Out the Pantry Week. I've had such an opportunity this week. I came across a flash fiction contest that looked interesting and offers money prizes! Woot! (I've always wanted to use that word. It felt good.) And the deadline is fast approaching. Like, Saturday.

Now, flash fiction isn't as time consuming as, say, a NOVEL, but it isn't just throwing a story of the top off your head either. Flash fiction generally indicates a story with the minimum number of words to get the point across while still making use of imagery, sensory detail, and other writerly devices. Length may vary, but this particular contest calls for 250-500 words. Uh huh, I know what you're saying:

Dearest Julie, you have written more than 500 words in this blog post alone.

Why yes, dear reader, brevity is not my strong suit, I admit freely. I can be brief. It is true, however, that it's more time consuming for me to be brief than to run long.

So, I decided to clean out the pantry.

I keep a file folder with all the writing I've done since I started getting "serious" about this writing thing. Even if it's no more than a blank document with a title, or a page with song lyrics pasted in that I think might inspire a story (which doesn't really qualify as "writing done," but you get the point). I have sub folders, and sub-sub folders, and it's really quite organized. Much more so than my personal areas of the house. Anyway, I have a sub-sub folder for flash fiction. I've written several of these tiny stories over the last few years, and periodically I pull them out and brush them off and tweak their noses, never knowing when I might submit one.

So guess what was in my pantry? A never-before-submitted story I believe is a great fit for this contest. I fiddled with it last night for a while, sent it to a critique friend, fiddled with it a little more today, sent it to another critiquer, and am waiting for more feedback. Before Saturday, it should be ready to go.

And the moral of this story is:

You don't always have to write something brand new when you see a contest or a call for submissions. Sometimes the perfect piece is right there, hiding in the back of your pantry.

A whole new world every day on the Internet

This really is gonna be short today. You will believe it when you see it. (I know what you're saying.)

I've found some really great websites in the past week for writers. I mean, really, really great. Transforming-my-WIP-in-moments kind of great. And to think, I've seen recommendations for some of these before and ignored them.

First up, I found Flogging the Quill via Writer Unboxed. Ray Rhamey (which makes me think of my brother--we call him Raymy!) asks would-be writers to send in the first chapter and synopsis of their fiction manuscript. He then takes the first 16 lines, equivalent to a first page, and flogs it--aka reads and critiques. Passing the Flogometer means the reader would probably keep reading. He has a "show, don't tell" game, too, but not many people take advantage of it. Either way, his critiques are amazing. I've made slight changes here, dramatic changes there in my WIP, and can already tell a difference based on his suggestions to other writers. OK, this is supposed to be short, so go see for yourself. Writer Unboxed itself is another good resource.

Book-Ends Literary Agency has a blog. They do lots of interactive stuff with writers on pitches, queries, and so on. Hands on, useful stuff.

Query Shark. This one just makes me laugh. And I mean that in the very nicest way. When I read the majority of queries people send in for critique, I have hope I'm going in the "write" direction. I couldn't help reading some of them out loud to my husband the other night. He doesn't even give a rip, and *he* saw it. There is also helpful feedback ... even on the ridiculous ones. The agent gives them her best shot, regardless. After she laughs.

So, go, visit, see and do.

OOPS. I forgot. I also finally joined Backspace. Lots of free stuff from the homepage, and the $30 per year subscription to the forums has already paid off for me after reading posts on a guest forum for an agent I'm eyeing.

Is it butter yet?

Last night, I worked on a query letter for my manuscript. I'm not ready to query agents yet, and in fact, it might still be months before I am, but I've done "practice" letters periodically while I've written this story. It's a good way to monitor how the book is going—the stronger it is, the clearer the main ideas become, and the easier it is to write a query.

It's interesting to see how the information I've included in my practice queries has evolved. The synopsis paragraphs and "big idea" sentences were much easier to write this time around, and that's encouraging.

It means I'm doing the right work in my revisions to identify what's most important in the story so I can ramp it up, capitalize on it, make it crystal clear.

It also means I'm doing a better job at separating the stuff that doesn't belong and removing it to safe keeping where it might be useful for another story in the future—or tossing it out when I realize it's complete garbage. (Such as when I'm reading dialogue and my own snoring wakes me up a few minutes later ...)

If you think about it, it's a clarification process not unlike clarifying liquids or fats for cooking. Look at these definitions for "clarify" from chefdepot.net:

CLARIFY
To remove sediment from a cloudy liquid, thereby making it clear. To clarify liquids, such as stock, egg whites and/or eggshells are commonly added and simmered for approximately 15 minutes. The egg whites attract and trap particles from the liquid. After cooling, strain the mixture through a cloth-lined sieve to remove residue.

To clarify rendered fat, add hot water and boil for about 15 minutes. The mixture should then be strained through several layers of cheesecloth and chilled. The resulting layer of fat should be completely clear of residue.

Clarified butter is butter that has been heated slowly so that its milk solids separate and sink, and can be discarded. The resulting clear liquid can be used at a higher cooking temperature and will not go rancid as quickly as unclarified butter.

None of these is an especially quick process. Each has different steps and leads to a specific refined product. Do you want liquid, fat, or butter? While there's always room for a quick, refreshing drink or a lazy, fat read in the market, I want to sell clarified butter.

Each process involves heating the original product, but if you want clarified butter, you can't just boil it quickly. You have to "heat slowly." You want to carefully increase the tension until the milk solids—the original "baby food" you produced—separate and fall away from the resulting clear product.

A story that can withstand higher criticism. It can take the heat. And it has a longer shelf life.

Wow, didn't really mean to go all philosophical on you. Sometimes even when I blog, the process I go through to post it on the page teaches me something.

I really only intended to tell you about my cool query letter. :-)

Beach Music to my ears

When's the last time it took you a month to read a book? WAIT. Don't answer that. The real question is, when's the last time it took me a month to read a book? A fairly modern, fiction, popular author, page-turner kind of book.

Not nonfiction. Those sometimes take me years because I have this bad habit of randomly flipping to a page that looks interesting and starting there, reading until I'm bored, then starting somewhere else the next time. Harder to do that with fiction.

Not classics, which I'm trying to "catch up" on so late in life. And I was even an English major in college. I went for as many classes involving modern lit or creative writing as I could get away with. Some of my worst college memories took place in BS&K ... Byron, Shelley, and Keats. Or was it BK&S? Dr. VD, as we fondly called our professor behind his back (Dr. VanDevender to his face), truly cured me of any love I *might* have developed for those three unfortunate fellows.

Now I'm discovering and rediscovering some of the "greats" on my own terms and in my own timing. Currently engrossed in Jane Austen's Mansfield Park (because you have to be pretty engrossed to read around the pretty language and find the story!) and I've been working on it about six weeks. I'm all the way to page 71, I believe. On the other hand, I read Kate Chopin's The Awakening before that and finished it in only a day or two. That was some truly fascinating reading. Can't believe I missed that one.

But where was I? Oh, yes. I've finally arrived at the last chapter of Pat Conroy's Beach Music. Yep, the one and same book that went into the emergency tornado basket several weeks back.

Has it taken me a month because it's a horrible, stilted, wordy, incredibly long and boring book that I still insist on finishing? (I have been known to do that. I'm one of those weird people who can't stand to not finish a book, because I've just got to find the redeeming value that allowed it to be published.)

Nope, it's not that. It is incredibly long for commercial fiction (more than 600 pages), although it has a seriously literary bent. But, I can usually read two to four books, three to four hundred pages each in a normal week.

Horrible? NO! Stilted? NO! Wordy. Maybe ... but what beautiful words they are. The thing is, this book has taught me more about different cultures, different eras, different people, different historical events in ONE volume than I might have in my usual 8 or 12 books a month.

This is the only one of Conroy's novels not to have been made into film, I believe. (Hang on, let me go check that out to be sure! I'm back .... I think that's correct.) I completely understand how impossible it would be to make this story into film, and yet one of the subplots is that the characters have been hired to write a mini-series about their story.

It's more like 20 stories in one. And somehow, as different as each is from the others, they all enterwine magically, not creating an episodic feeling (the death knell for the middle grade fiction story I attempted a few years ago), but somehow maintaining a slow, increasing tenstion, building to a conclusion I have yet to read. I've come this far, I don't see how I could possibly be disappointed. Something tells me the conclusion will have turtles.

Twice this weekend, I retold the story of the main characters' experience with a larger-than-life manta ray in a small boat in the open ocean. My husband saw the book lying on the edge of the tub the other day (can't remember why, haven't read in the tub in years!) and I said, "Oh, that book is mesmerizing."

He said, "Beach Music? Sounds like a romance!" I don't read much traditional romance, and he knows it. I flipped it over and showed him the photo of Conroy and said, "Romance? I don't think so. You would even like this book." Then I told the manta ray story.

Told the same story to my son this weekend. I mentioned that what was so crazy about that story was exactly that. It was crazy! But, I raced through the pages, my heart pounding, believing every minute of it.

A string of Holocaust stories runs throughout, and they were so vivid and horrible, I've had to put the book down several times until I had enough energy to pick it up again.

So, what am I saying here? Maybe that you shouldn't wait any longer to read this book, too? (It's already 13 years old, why waste any more time?) Maybe that I hope if you do, you are as mesmerized by this master of metaphor, this king of storytellers? That you won't want to throw it across the room, even if it takes you a month or longer?

I think mainly I want to say this is a book I will be remembering and thinking about for a long, long time. I don't usually review books I haven't even finished yet.

Gush, gush

Elizabeth Berg is one of my favorite authors. On her blog the other day, she mentioned she was providing a link from her website to a collection of essays, Domestic Epiphanies, written by one of her best friends, Phyllis Florin. I'm working on building a repertoire of essays along with writing fiction, so I decided to take a gander, figuring Berg's recommendation was a good one.

I'm so glad I did. Not only are these essays similar to the ones I'm attempting to write in style (relaxed, down to earth, I hope!) and content--family, friendships, life in general--they are also captivating. I've already read about half of the 14 Florin has posted.

I stopped to write this blog entry. The essay I just finished reading, Buddies, is a tribute to friendship, and one of the more painfully honest looks at true friendship I've encountered, especially among writer friends. Florin works her way through the history of a friendship that started out faintly ambiguous, then morphed into something honest and true in an instant, and has peaked again and again at those honest moments. A celebration of the positive and the negative and their contributions to a true, lasting friendship.

And ... I'm thinking the object of the essay might just be Elizabeth Berg. I already admire Berg's honesty and transparency in her books and blog, but now what a pleasant surprise to read about it from the perspective of her best friend.

If you're a Berg fan, check it out here.

And Elizabeth, if you happen to read this, and the essay's not about you, you could leave me a comment. Or, you could just leave me to wallow in my blissful ignorance. :-D

I can't wait to get my hands on Berg's recent release:
The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted And Other Small Acts of Liberation

Jobs writers/editors/proofreaders should not do

Did I mention that writers who are also editors and proofreaders should not mop?

Last weekend, I decided to sweep and mop our Texas-sized bathroom floor, a job my husband usually does adequately in about 15 or 20 minutes. Both parts. It only took me two days. Well, not all day each day, but it took all the housecleaning energy I had each day. I had nothing left for anything else.

Vacuuming. Well, you know, there are those little protrusions on the door panels ... and the tops of the light fixtures ... and, obviously, the baseboards ... and the tops of the door frames. Blinds. The little rubber rests on the bottom of the scale. It is possible to vacuum a bathroom from ceiling to floor. I know.

The mopping might have gone okay if I hadn't called Todd while he was grocery shopping (which is a whole 'nuther problem for me) to ask how he got up the stubborn spots. Oh, yeah! Scrub brush. It really works well on the grout between the tiles, too. There was stuff between those tiles I swear had been there for much too long. Too bad I didn't know about the brush when I did the first pass. Of course, all that extra yuck that came up with the brush wouldn't possibly rinse away with just one more pass. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I'm not O/C, I promise. But, this is why I am only allowed to vacuum and mop the bathroom quarterly.