Weekend With Writers

I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting my blog lately.  We’ve been very busy at the Scorekeeper, and I’ve been judging Golden Heart entries and keeping up with Gwen Hernandez’ excellent Scrivener class.  I don’t seem to have much time or energy left over.

I didn’t catch up on much this weekend–my grocery shopping and laundry remain undone, I’m behind on email and the rest of my Internet activity–because Jo Anne and I drove to Shreveport on Friday to attend the NOLA Stars RWA chapter’s Written in the Stars Conference.  We went because Jo Anne’s manuscript was a finalist in their annual Suzannah contest, and because we have friends in the Shreveport chapter.  RWA is a close-knit world.

The weather was beautiful, cool and sunny, and the roads were clear.  The only problem we had with the trip to Shreveport came when we got off Interstate 20 on the west side of the city to discover that Google maps is behind on updating street names.  The left turn on our driving instructions simply didn’t exist.  We had to call the hotel to ask for directions.  “What can you see?” the desk clerk asked.  “Wendy’s on the right and an Exxon station on the left,” I replied.  “Turn left at the Exxon station and keep driving until you see our sign,” she said, and that worked just fine.

The conference opened Friday evening with a panel of editors and one agent, a Q&A session on industry trends, the editors’ individual interests, and some funny (and valuable) advice on what doesn’t work for them.  Electronic publishing, whether through an established New York publisher, a smaller/newer press, or done independently on line continues to be a topic of major interest to both writers and editors.  After the panel, the members of the North Louisiana chapter really outdid themselves with a buffet supper, featuring local recipes from their own kitchens.  The crawfish pasta was to die for.

Saturday was a mix of workshops, editor/agent appointments, and visiting with fellow writers.  I missed some workshops I would have loved to see because of appointments, but I did enjoy Sarah Hamer’s presentation, “Intimacy: Not Just Sex,” Liliana Hart on “The Indie Revolution,” and the full-time hard work that has gone into her publishing success, Liz Talley on “New Twists on Old Plots,” and Christa Allan on social media (more on that topic another evening).

One of the best aspects of an intimate writers’ conference like this one is the opportunity to see old friends and make new ones.  The conference attracted writers, most but not all of them women, from Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, as well as Louisiana.  I was delighted to find fellow Firebird Pamela Kopfler there–she and a friend drove up from New Orleans via a computer generated route she described as “the theme from Deliverance played Zydeco style.”   A charming expatriate Englishwoman named Mavis, who decided it was time to write a novel when she turned 80, wasn’t the only lady there who reminded me that it’s never too late to try something new.

I also met the wonderfully witty Barbara Vey, an out-spoken and often hilarious lover of books in general and romance in particular, who blogs on the Publisher’s Weekly site.  I had a ball visiting with her, and I’ll be following her blog, Beyond Her Book.

It was about 40 degrees in when we left Shreveport at 11 AM this morning, and about 70 when we rolled into Houston this afternoon.  This is Texas: if you don’t like the weather, wait an hour or drive fifty miles.  It was a lovely day and a fun road trip (especially the stop at the Catfish King restaurant in Livingston), but now I have Friday’s Scrivener lesson to do so I don’t fall behind, and one more contest entry to judge.  I stopped for milk and produce (and one more box of Girl Scout cookies–those little sales women are hard to resist) on the way home, but there’s no telling when the laundry will get done.

 

Happy Thanksgiving

I spent a pleasant afternoon with my neighbor, her daughter, and some friends at the Thanksgiving buffet at Moody Gardens down in Galveston.  It was a nice day for a drive, the food and the company were good, and there was no cooking, cleaning, or football involved.  (We might have been seated a trifle too close to the singing piano player and his repertoire of early Christmas carols, but he wasn’t bad, just a bit loud.)

I was particularly impressed with the display at the head of the buffet.  I wonder where one goes to learn the art of fruit carving?  Amazing what an artist can do with a watermelon, and I don’t even know what the birds are made of.  I think the flowers are mostly melon.

I’m working a short day tomorrow, avoiding the Black Friday sales, stopping by to see a friend who’s stuck in the hospital over the holiday.  Last year at this time I was writing furiously to finish a manuscript by the Golden Heart deadline.  That turned out to be well worth the effort, as Bathtub Jinn was a Golden Heart finalist.  This year I don’t have a new manuscript to finish, but I think I’ll enter the one I’m revising.  The deadline dates have changed, though, so I’m not tied to my computer chair for the rest of the holiday weekend.  I may even find time to read.

Today (and every day, I hope) I’m thankful for my health, my home, and my friends, so many of whom I have met through writing (my next-thing-to-a-sister, Jo Anne Banker, and my critique group, Barbara Ewing, Carl Miller, Charles Russell, and Jim Stanton)  and through Romance Writers of America (the members of my local chapters, West Houston and Houston Bay Area, and my Golden Heart sisters, the Starcatcher, the Firebirds, and the Golden Network).

Here’s wishing a happy holiday season to everyone.

Wednesday Roundup

I just did something I’ve been meaning to do for nearly a month:  I pledged $35 toward the $50,000 Laurie Kahn needs to finance the completion of her documentary film Love Between the Covers, part of the Popular Romance Project.  We were treated to a trailer for the film-in-progress at lunch at the RWA National Conference last month, and the audience loved what we saw.  The money is being raised through Kickstarter, a site I had never visited.  You can watch the trailer there.  Consider kicking in a few bucks.

I checked another item off my perpetual ToDo list this morning when I renewed my military ID card, a task that has ranged over the years from pleasant (when my late husband Jack and I used to drive down to the Coast Guard Station on Galveston Island) to aggravating.  This time it was reasonably painless, once I found the new phone number for the Ellington Field information line (no humans involved, just a recorded message) and got the schedule and new location.  I’m not sure I’ve ever found the ID card office in the same place twice.  Last time I spent fifteen minutes searching the far reaches of Ellington, a one-time Air Force Base now partially commercial and generally confusing.  The ID card office is now in a newer building (with a parking lot!!) outside the secure part of the base where the military retains a presence.  Its hours are technically 8 to 12, but they are prone to closing when they “reach capacity,” so I was happy to be the third person to sign in.  I was out with my new card by 9 AM, leaving a rapidly filling waiting room behind.

I’ve never actually been in the military myself.  My dad was in the Navy from shortly after Pearl Harbor until he was released several months after the end of the war.  I always thought he had the personality and ability to be a fine officer, but perhaps he didn’t like the regimentation.  At any rate, once he left active duty he seldom talked about it and never looked back.  Jack, on the other hand, joined the Army Air Corps at the age of seventeen, saw a few months of World War II from the ball turret of a B-17, and would have happily remained a career officer if the Army hadn’t reduced its forces after Korea.  He had the foresight to remain in the Army Reserves (and had some fun along the way, especially when we lived in Louisiana, where he enjoyed Cajun food with the Lafayette unit and helped a Colonel stationed in New Orleans accumulate artifacts for a museum) until he retired.  The medical benefits and annuity I inherited make any number of visits to renew my card (which I usually only have to do every four years) worthwhile.  In fact, I feel horribly ungrateful even mentioning it.  Thanks, Jack!

The Firebirds site launched on Monday.  We’re still on a bit of a shake-down cruise, but we’re setting up our author pages, organizing our posts, and welcoming visitors.  We’re even giving prizes to random commenters now and then, so please come by, meet the Firebirds, and say hello.

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