Stacyverb

IceJam2014, aka Pajamapocalypse

Yep, the south has once again come to a complete stop because of a little weather. I'm not scoffing--yesterday consisted of constant freezing rain, and that's nothing to mess with. Everything non-essential was closed. We were home, and we were safe.

At some point, I went out onto the porch to get some fresh (cold) air and it was so weirdly quiet outside. Nothing but the sound of ice falling from the sky and hitting the ice that was already on the ground. As trees and power lines became more and more coated, we waited to see if we'd keep electricity.

In the meantime, we did what needed to be done. For those of us who work from home, a snow day is a normal work day. And we made sure phones and flashlights were fully charged, and cooked big meals that could be re-heated on the gas stovetop, just in case.

We were some of the lucky ones whose power stayed on all night. And overnight, the stuff falling from the clouds turned to snow and we woke up to this.

 

View across the side street, into the wilds that border our semi-industrial neighborhood.

 

Frozen lantana bush...so elegant.
 

This is not a black and white photo.

 

The snow-frosted kudzu vines are my favorite.

 

Ah, southern snow days are THE BEST. Nobody expects us to be anywhere (and there's nowhere to go anyway, because everything's closed). We get the beauty and the coziness without the pain-in-the-ass-ness. And it'll be gone in a day or two. In the meantime, there are way worse things than being "trapped" inside with my favorite person, pets, food, books, etc. I hope everyone reading this is faring as well.

Getting there (and beyond)

First, heartfelt thanks to everyone who reached out to me here on the blog and elsewhere to offer condolences about Little. They are very much appreciated. It's a sad time for us, but it helps to have so many kind wishes coming our way.

Speaking of kindness, take a look at this:

That's right--with more than two weeks to go, I'm already at 92% of my goal! A huge THANKS goes out to everyone who is contributing toward making this dream come true for me.

As I close in on the number that will pay for my residency and get me to Vermont and back, a few people have started asking what I would do with any money I receive above and beyond my goal. Fair question, as exceeding the target amount seems quite likely to happen.

Of course, it would depend on how much extra money actually comes in, but this is how I would prioritize and budget it.

1. Invest in expanding my library of books about the craft of writing, some of which I would take to Vermont with me.
2. Get Mimi a thorough vet check-up before I leave town, so Anthony won't have to deal with any unexpected "elderly cat" issues by himself while I'm away.
3. Put money in savings toward a future writing event (conference, class, another residency, what have you).
4. Treat Anthony and myself to a special night out before I go, and/or to celebrate my return home.

Meanwhile, this whole thing is starting to feel pretty close. I mean, now that it's February, I can technically say I'm going to Vermont next month. End of next month, but still! It's very exciting.

Farewell, Little

Our beloved Little crossed the Rainbow Bridge this morning. It was very peaceful. We found a very kind vet who would come to the house and help Little slip away at home. I'm so grateful for this, because taking her to the office for one last traumatic car ride would have upset her so much. We didn't want her to be frightened in her last moments.

Since we got the bad news in November, we've had one rule when it comes to Little: Little can do whatever she wants. We spoiled her, and couldn't bear to scold her, so she could get away with anything. Hog the bed? Eat chicken fat? Borrow the car? Whatever! All fine.

Now that her illness is over--now that we're not wondering every day, "How is she feeling? How much longer will she be here?"--we can focus on the joy she brought us. She was such a sweet, sweet cat. Very shy with strangers, but once she got to know you, a real love bug.

I've written about Little's modest origins before. Looking back, it's hard to believe our plump house kitty was once a feral sewer dweller. When I think about the courage it must have taken her to turn to us for help, to trust us with her babies, when she was so scared of people...what a leap of faith that was for her. What a brave girl. I'm humbled, and honored, that she took a chance on us and let us be her family.

Little Bitty, 2001-2014

Back in the loop

So, I'm getting a pretty good rhythm going here in the new year. My work weeks are a mix of paid work at home, paid work at the shop, and unpaid (but important!) writing-related activities.

"Writing-related activity" can mean any number of things. It could be writing a blog post. Or working on some fiction. It might be studying a writing-related book (right now I have Joan Sibley's The Art of Time In Fiction right here next to the computer with me). Some days it's mostly corresponding with writing friends and/or working on expanding my circle of same. But it's all helping me get into the habit of making writing--in some form or another--a part of my day, every day. Forty-fourward! and all that.

One thing I need to add to my mix of writing activities is submitting work to literary magazines. It's been a long time since I did that, and the lit mag scene has changed a lot. When last I was making an effort to get pieces published--this was ten years or so ago--paper was still the norm. By this I mean the mags were mostly actual, solid, hold-them-in-your-hand things. They had printing expenses, and to recoup those expenses, charging writers a reading fee was pretty standard. You printed out a hard copy of your work, mailed it off with a self-addressed stamped envelope, and waited forever for a reply (usually rejection).

God, the SASEs were the worst. Getting mail addressed to yourself, in your own handwriting, telling you that you suck? And you had to pay for that? Awesome (NOT).

What a time-consuming, expensive, frustrating process that was. Which is why I stopped doing it. But things are different and more writer-friendly now. There are tons of great online lit mags. Electronic submissions are the norm. Reading fees are largely a thing of the past.

So, I'm ready to start putting my toe back into the submitting game. I need to look through my files and see what I already have that might be ready to go out, as well as research which mags are looking for what, and when. It's all part of the process. A writer's life.

This is my gift

For Christmas, Anthony gave me a mysterious large box. Unwrapping it, I found layer after layer of tissue paper and decoy items, all labeled "This is not Stacy's gift." Deep inside the box was an envelope proclaiming itself to contain my real gift--tickets to see the amazing Jason Isbell.

I can't even list all the things I loved about this present. It was a total surprise, and clever, and not a piece of stuff that would just take up space. And while Jason Isbell had already passed through Atlanta when I couldn't go, these tickets were for the show in Knoxville, Anthony's hometown, at a theatre where he used to do plays as a teenager. I'd never been to the Bijou, so I was excited about that. Plus, on this leg of Isbell's tour, my girl Holly Williams was opening for him!

So this week we drove to Knoxville on a gorgeous clear winter day, stayed with Anthony's mom for a couple of days, met his high school best friend for dinner at The Bistro (loved it) and went to the show. It was really kind of a magical night. Really damn cold, but magical.

You ever have the experience of witnessing somebody do something they're really, really good at--whatever that might be--and you just want to say, THANK YOU? Thank you for sharing this ability you have, this thing you have created! That's what this show was like. It was an honor just to be in the room to hear these songs.

Isbell's Southeastern was my favorite album of 2013. I don't write songs, but this music just plain makes me want to be a better writer, period. A musician friend of mine described Isbell's writing as "precise," and yes, that's exactly it. I love plenty of artists who write abstract lyrics, but the words that really stop me in my tracks are the ones that create a picture that I can't get out of my head. It's a matter of riveting storytelling, and lyrics that make you see things in new ways.

And that's what listening to Southeastern is like for me. Some of the songs are really raw, powerful slices from Isbell's life. Others, like "Yvette" and "Elephant" are devastating, self-contained stories that come from his imagination. Make no mistake, folks--this music is literature. That precision of language that my friend talked about? It's what creates a new way to express ideas we've all heard countless times before. Isbell doesn't say, "A woman left me, and I miss her," he says, "The songs that she sang in the shower are stuck in my head/ Like 'Bring Out Your Dead'/ And 'Breakfast In Bed.'" He doesn't say, "Hey, baby, let's do it all night," he says, "Girl, leave your boots by the bed, we ain't leaving this room."

During this song, the whole room sat perfectly still in their seats, then rose in stunned applause. An amazing thing to witness. A great gift.

 

Texas forever?

I've never been to Texas, but it's sure been in my face so far this year. 

On New Year's Day, over my first cup of coffee of 2014, I started reading The Son by Philipp Meyer (who wrote American Rust, one of my favorite novels of recent years). Just finished it today, and can't quite decide how much I liked it.

On one hand, it's an epic western full of long, cinematic sequences about various tribes of people slaughtering each other. I was by turns grossed out and zoned out from boredom. BUT. Occasionally--frequently--I'd come across a sentence or passage that was so beautiful or insightful that I'd have to read it several times.

Anyway, The Son takes place in Texas, full of dust and oil, cattle barons and cowboy wannabes. Texas is basically a main character in the book.

So I'd been reading that, and meanwhile one day I got into a conversation with a friend about football, and this led to her reminding me that I never finished watching Friday Night Lights. Aaand then I binge-watched the last 30 or so episodes in the past two weeks.

When FNL was on the air, I paid no attention. It was on network TV and full of good-looking teenage characters, so I dismissed it as corny fluff for pre-pubescents. Eventually, I'd heard enough (grown) people rave about it that I started watching it on Netflix.

I'm so glad I did, because this show is just plain great story-telling. Set in a dead-end town--in, yes, TEXAS--whose biggest thrill is high school football, it could easily have turned into one big caricature. But instead, the writers and actors respected the humanity of their characters and created complex people and stories full of depth and subtext.

When not reading or Netflix-ing, I've had The Trishas' High, Wide & Handsome on heavy rotation all month. First hearing these ladies on WDVX last time we were in Knoxville, I instantly fell in love with their gorgeous harmonies and old-school songs of resourcefulness, heartache, and regret. Googled them the other day to learn more about them and oh, guess what--they're from TEXAS.

Meanwhile, in search of a new project, I dug into my yarn stash and found a yummy skein I bought several years ago at Stitches South. I vaguely remembered buying it from a small traveling vendor there, but didn't recall any details. The label said Brooks Farm Yarn, which didn't ring any bells, so I looked them up to figure out who they were. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this little company is based in TEXAS.

So weird! I didn't plan it this way, but I think I've had as many Texas references in the past three weeks than I normally do in a whole year. And all really interesting ones, too. Okay, Texas, I get it--YOU'RE STALKING ME. I'll visit you one day and we'll just see what happens, all righty? I'm intrigued, but I promise nothing.

The kindness of strangers

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Mary Mosso. She's a friend of a friend (and my friend now, too) who's currently on a 14-month walk across America. Yes, that's right--she's walking from Massachusetts to California and back. Why is she doing this? Because she can. It's been her dream, and she's been planning it for two years, and now she's doing it.

Mary at our house on New Year's Day

Mary is making her cross-country trek with just a few belongings in a push cart. She stays with friends, or friends of friends, or fellow travelers she's met on the internet, or she camps. She makes friends everywhere she goes, and greets each new day with her heart open to adventure.

Next time you're feeling cynical or hopeless, I invite you to spend some time perusing Mary's Facebook page, Because I Can. Reading about her gutsy journey and the amazingly kind, generous people she meets along the way just might give you a new perspective. Maybe it will inspire you to stick your neck out to help someone, or to embark on an adventure of your own.

Speaking of generosity, I want to say THANK YOU to the folks who have donated to my Indiegogo campaign to help pay for my writing residency in Vermont.  After only three days, I'm already about 35% of the way to my goal.

Several of these donations are from people I don't even know. I'm truly touched and honored to know that these kind souls, along with beloved friends and family, have chosen to support me.

Kinda makes you feel all fuzzy inside, huh?

Indiegogo-a-gogo

As I've shared the news about my upcoming VSC residency with friends and family, the most common reactions I've gotten are:

1. "YAY!!!" or similar. Sincere congratulations, excitement, hugs, toast-clinking of glasses.

2. "I'm jealous!" But not in a mean or hateful way. A wistful way. And I totally understand it. Honestly, if I weren't me, I'd be jealous of me about this, too!

3a. "Let me know if I can help."

3b. "Have you thought about setting up a crowdfunding site?"

Well, for all you 3a-ers and 3b-ers out there, here you go. I would feel weird about asking people for money, except for the fact that people keep asking me if/how/where they can give me money. So it's not really asking. But I still feel weird anyway.

Having said all that, I've set up an Indiegogo page for this adventure. Donate, share, ignore--it's up to you. Here's a video that tells you the gist of what's happening. (Oof. Making the video has been the hardest part of this process so far.)

 

Thanks for watching, clicking, reading my blog, and generally being excellent.

As it should be

From the looks of my news feed, a lot of you are dealing with a buttload (I believe that's the scientific meteorological term) of snow right now. Nothing like that here, but it's a hibernating kind of day anyway. It's cold and blustery outside, but I'm inside writing, and Anthony's in the other room drawing. So, pretty much excellent.

Oh, HAPPY NEW YEAR, by the way! My holidays were great and I hope yours were, too. I'm lucky enough to be related to people I actually love spending time with, and to have many wonderful friends to help me welcome the new year. Again, excellent.

The new year brings a new chapter in my life, as I'm now only working one or two days a week at the shop. The rest of the week I'm working at home, doing digital/social media for an arts organization. Trying to get into this new groove, figuring out how to allocate my time and energy, etc.

Being able to make my own schedule feels awesome. I'm hoping this will give me the freedom to get into a rhythm of working/creating/resting that feels productive and natural to me. The big thing I won't miss about working retail all week is fighting for little bits of time amidst the unpredictable comings and goings of customers. Having to delay bathroom breaks, being unable to eat an uninterrupted lunch--ugh, NOPE, won't miss all that a bit.

 

For Christmas a friend gave me a gorgeous leather-bound journal and some nifty pens. Creating in general, but specifically making more of my living by working with words, are high priorities for me in 2014. This is what I think I need to be doing at this point in my life. I've been in a work rut for a little while and it's time to change things up!

What's on your agenda for 2014?

Thoughts, I have them

Every day I keep thinking TODAY I WILL PICK A TOPIC AND BLOG ABOUT IT, but then things come up and blogging gets shoved to the bottom of the to-do list. Work is busy, life is busy, and I am easily distracted.

Anyway. Any of these could be their own post, but that's not gonna happen. So briefly, here are a few things that irritate me:

• The onslaught of spam coming to this blog, wanting me to buy luxury shoes or get on the waiting list for a designer handbag. DO NOT WANT. DO NOT CARE.
• How little time I have to do anything creative right now.
• How much of my time is spent digging around for fresh batteries and pens that actually write.
• Every flat surface in my life seems to be covered in assorted scraps of paper and/or useless objects (e.g., dead batteries, pens with no ink, etc.)

Now, in the interest of balanced journalism, some things that do not suck:

• Library books
• Cinnamon whisky in hot chocolate, with whipped cream on top
• Christmas trees
• The sound of Mimi cat-snoring
• Generous people who want me to succeed

Let me say a few things about that last item. Several folks have gotten in touch to tell me they would like to help fund my writing residency in Vermont. I'm humbled, and touched, and working on getting my act together to run a little fundraising campaign, for those who feel inclined in that direction. Stay tuned.

Also very much in the non-terrible category, this week marks 18 years since Anthony and I went on our first date. That was a good night. We talked for hours and hours, and got kicked out of a Mexican restaurant. (Because it was closing, that is!) A guy later died at that place, we heard. (Which has NOTHING to do with us getting kicked out of there, but it's really sad, obviously.) So anyway...18 years. If our relationship were a person, it could vote! Yup.