"We Write to Taste Life Twice."  Anais Nin

There are times I think I write just to taste life, period.  At least to taste the life I want to have.  Or many to remind me that "Life as it is and not as it should be," has always been my motto, and for better or worse, it's still My Life.

In less than 3 years (that's right, kiddies, I am no longer in the category of Spring Chicken when I go to the American Steak House and they ask if I get Senior Discout--which they give to anyone over 55), I will be 60.  A grand and glorious number, and no where near when I expect to finally leave this world (barring accident, illness or the sun going nova).  I come from a line of women who are long lived by nature.

Of course, sometimes, I look back and the path I have climbed up this mountain we call life is thick with fog.  When I see that, I wonder if I ever did anything really worthwhile.

For as far back as I can remember, I have been writing.  Even in the days when I had grand plans to be a spy-horse rancher-ballerina-veterinarian-scientist-superstar, I was writing.  First the stories were for my own amusement (and to make my mother stop telling me only crazy people talked to themselves--oh, and she got over that when I told her only crazy people talk to themselves and the cat).  Gradually, I began to share the stories with others.  First my friend with whom I rode the school bus, and later with my friend who like myself had ambitions to be on stage or on the Big Screen--or just on TV (she is now a theater lighting technician while most of my theater days--aside from playing Ms. Tiddywump for the Yard Dog Press Traveling Road Show at conventions--are behind me).

Then one day, it just clicked in my head that I really wanted to be a writer more than all the other ambitions I had.  So barely past 17 after receiving multiple rejections from Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine (to whom I finally sold a short but delightfully funny poem) to actor/producer/director Sheldon Leonard (who told me I was a 15 year old of great talent and all I needed was to write what I knew and to finish school), I sold my first article (and was delighted to discover that people actually PAID me to do this), followed by a number of other articles and a stint as a book reviewer and occasional columnist for a local paper.  And all the while, I was writing short fiction that was not all that short, and eventually figured out that the journalistic art of Write Tight could be applied to short fiction as well, leading me to selling my first short story to Marion Zimmer Bradley for Sword and Sorceress V back in 1987 (and again amazing me to think people would actually PAY me to do this over and over), after which, I sold many more stories.

All that, of course, led to the publication of my first novel, my first short story collection, and has continued to get me into print with many other novels and short story collections under my belt.  A snowball that has gathered professional and semi-professional credits over the years until I can honestly say that nearly 300 short stories, articles, essays, novelettes, novellas and novels are filling up and bulging from the sides of my brag shelf.

And people STILL PAY ME to do this.

I have long since passed the stage where I think my writing career--little known as I may be except in small corners of fandom--is a fluke.  I still marvel when an editor says "yes" to a submission but that is because the wonder has yet to cease.  I still get excited as a newbie when I see my work in print, be it electronically or on an actual printed page.

The thrill never stops, no matter how long the climb up that mountain of success is.

Nin, of course, is refering to the fact that as writers, we have a life, and when we are professionally published, we have an afterlife.  Our work goes on so long as someone is reading it, in some ways, making us immortal.

Now I know there are a lot of newbies and wannabes out there who dream of tasting the life of a writer, and some are not so determined or are too easily dissuaded by the long climb to keep following a professional trail.  They cheat and take a level-looking side road and publish themselves and call it being published.

They have no clue as to what it really means to be accepted by someone else either because the first rejection killed their ardor or they just don't have enough patience to reach the real point of professional publication.  They think the cards are stacked against them.  But no one can stack the cards against you unless you let them, and while you can avoid rejection by never submitting to real editors and publishers, you can also avoid success that way.

Or as Marion Zimmer Bradley used to say, "No one told you NOT to be a plumber..."

Now I know the industry is changing.  There are many opportunities for writers, including those who follow the "easy" trail by self-publishing (and for the record, it is NOT THAT easy a trail, it marks you as an amateur unless you pick the RIGHT trail, and you will have to work 1,000 times as hard as someone who follows the harder trail to getting published by others because you won't have anyone to support you outside your parents and a few friends and family members, so ALWAYS keep that in mind if you are going to throw your unfinished work out there without the assistance of a good editor and a copy editor and a real illustrator, so always keep THAT in mind if you decide self-publishing just to bolster your ego is the only path for you--but if you are good enough and make the right decisions from the get-go, you can achieve your goals--different strokes for different folks and all that jazz, and yeah, that is a cliche' as it comes...).

My trail is long and slow and steep at times.  I keep trudging away because I know that eventually it will lead me to the top, and that for whatever brief moment I get at real fame, I will be able to say I worked hard at it.

And I know there are those who will think I got there too easy, and those who think I don't deserve to be there at all.  I never said I was going to be a superstar.  I just thought I would give it a whirl.  And I have never been one to give up on a real dream.  Else wise, I would not have been a state fencing champion, a harpist, or learned to play music, to draw, to paint, to make little dragons with beads...

If all I do with my writing is manage to "taste life twice," so be it.

It's my life.  I am proud of it.  I don't think I would have done it any other way.

And at least, I can always say, people PAID me to do it. ;-)

I like baseball.  I used to watch it a lot more than I have time to do now.  I enjoy a good game.

I also believe in sports for children.  I think the exercise and the activity is good for them.  I think they need to get out and have fun...

That said, what I hate are the parents of baseball children.  For the most part, they are rude and pushy and act as if their child's inability to throw a ball straight (hey, they are kids--those skills are developed with practice and time) or run the bases is a reflection on them.

Now I work in a small branch library that sits on top of a hill above a park owned by the same goverment entity that owns us.  It is paid for by local tax payers.  I don't have a problem with that.

But come this Saturday, I will start having a problem overall.

Tournament season is upon us.  What this means is the locals set up tournaments in the park, inviting all these "out of county" and "out of state" groups in.  They take over the park.  They block the road to the library.  They treat the library like it is part of the park...

We are not part of the park.  Our parking lot is not part of the park.  The road leading up to us is supposed to be open for traffic coming not only to the library, but to the private residence that sits behind us on up the hill.  Yet every year, lazy parents who don't want to walk from the parking lot (and equally lazy organizers who don't want to pay to let the people park over at the school and ride a bus to the fields) come in and block the road.  They stop our patrons and demand money from them.  They call it asking for a donation, but in the last seven years I have been at this branch, I have listened to patrons screaming and wailing because the people stopping traffic refuse to let them through, demand that they pay, accuse them of lying when they say they are coming to the library, and in general, make it a big headache for me.

I, of course, have no problem telling them to call the Mayor's office and complain.  It does no good to complain to the park service because they ignore the complaints.  Calling the county mayor's office usually gets results, and we find that the next time this particular group is in the park, they move their tent over out of the way of the road, and they lower their eyes as we pass.  But I can still see the ugly looks they give us because someone stomped on their tail and told them they were in the wrong.

It would not be so bad if they would obey the park rules concerning parking and usage.

I understand that this problem has existed since the branch opened back almost seventeen years ago.  My current supervisor and I discovered letters written to the park service and complaint forms sent to the Director, all of which were apparently ignored.

I debate asking the Fire Marshall to investigate.  Why?  Well, in the first place, they are blocking a road to a private drive and a public building, and if emergency services tried to get up the hill because there was a fire in the library, the senior center or the residential house, they would be unable to do their job.  We pay for fire protection out in the county, and would then be denied it because some bone-head lazy parent did not want to walk from the parking lot to their field, and decided they had every right to park where they are not supposed to IN SPITE OF THE SIGN AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE PARK STATING "PARKING IN DESIGNATED AREAS ONLY."  That's right, there are signs at the park entrance stating the rules, and those signs are ignored.

I realize there is probably not a darn thing that will be done about it.  The County tends to move only when it looks like some politico might lose their seat.  I also suspect that someone is getting something "under the table," but since I have no proof of that, it goes unsaid to the ears that need to hear it.

We have been at war with the park since the library opened.  We have complained.  I have photographed people parking in the handicap spaces without a tag to indicate they have a right to park there.  I have sent those photos on, and they have been ignored.

Why?  Well, I can only assume the parents of the Boys of Summer are fairly fierce in their defence of their rights to destroy park property, block public access, etc.  They clearly have more friends in the good old boy system that has plagued local politics as far back as I can remember.

Granted, the new mayor is quite adament about making sure our libraries are strong.  I just wish he would find out who the heck has the small jewels of the park service firmly in hand and put an end to this mess.

There are only five baseball fields in that area.  Not enough to do a tournament beyond the local teams.  The fields were set up and designated for use by the schools just down the road, but no one seem to remember that.

So this is just a rant to get the annoyance out of my system so I can go in and smile as I say, "Remember, you cannot stop library patrons nor charge them fees for entering this park."

More flies with honey than vinegar, as they say.  Though as Sheldon once put it, you can attract even more flies with manure.

I will have to say this was a MUCH better MidSouthCon than last year. Programming on useful subjects was plentiful. I had a full platter.

When I left the house Friday, we were expecting storms, and I saw only clouds until I got right out of my county and into the next where it was a veritable flash flood situation with truckers slinging great gobs of water on everyone else to the point that one had to slow down and use the blinkers. But after about 60 miles of that happening on and off, it cleared off, rotating between cloudy and sunny patches for the rest of the way. No delays on the road either, which was nice.

I got to Memphis around 3:00 which gave me plenty of time to get checked in with ConCom. My first program was not until 6:00. It was on "Con Ettiquet."

Mostly, it was a discussion of how to approach authors and editors at conventions without making an a&& of yourself, something a lot of new writers and fans need to understand. It's not the Internet. It's in person, and you should be on your best behavior when you want to approach an author or an editor at a convention.

Once that was over, I was able to go find food, and then I joined fellow YDP folks Selina Rosen and Lynn Stranathan for their later programs.

I was sharing with Selina and Lynn, and Selina's nephew Anthony (cute, quite and rather introverted 14 year old). We went to bed early that night because I had a 10:00 am panel.

My morning panel was on "Modes of Publication." Should you go Big Press (always, if you can), Small Press (yes, the small presses are vastly populat) or Do It Yourself (only out of desperation, and even then, do it RIGHT). My fellow guest and I--including a gentleman who started out self publishing, but he was able to sell 7000 units of his books in 3 months time, and that put him in the spotlight enough that an indepentend press picked him up--agreed that one should seek professional publication, and reminded folks that if you MUST go it yourself, make sure you hire an editor, a cover artist, a copy editor, and be as professional as possible.

Bopped back to the table for a short time, and then I had a "Street Corner Reading." Am not too fond of these as you are basically standing in the hallway reading out loud to no one in particular. They believe you will gather an audience, but those of us who did it thought it was not the best way, and were wishing they would go back to putting readings in a room, or at least having seating for an audience and a quieter location.

My 1:00 pm panel was "Little Details." Things new writers get wrong and how to fix them. Again, the panel was a mix of experiences authors and folks in the editorial end of the industry, and we discussed everything from doing research to making sure your manuscript is sparkling clean.

At 3:00 pm, I sat on Pro Row and signed books and discussed stuff in general with my fellow authors.

I had time to eat and spent much time pushing books before my 8:00 pm panel "Animals in Fiction." The discussion ranged from "realistic animals" to the "mythical and magical" sorts as well as "sentient creatures." We discussed how we used them, how we learned to use them realistically, and suggested books and stories the audience might find useful.

Afterwards, I sat in on one of Selina's panels, and then I went back to the room and did a little work. We all retired early because Sunday was the day of packing, getting out of the room and SELLING MORE STUFF. Which we did...

I had a 3:00 pm panel Sunday--my last for the day--and in spite of being opposite the most popular panel "Dark and Stormy" (a MidSouthCon tradition) we had a fairly interested audience for "E-book: Friend or Foe?" We discussed formats, reading devices, the ins and outs of Library lending of ebooks versus purchasing. We discussed how publishers felt about ebooks, how writers felt about them, and what writers should beware of when thinking of ebook publication.

After that, I hit the road for home, and reached my bed some time after the am hours.

It was a really good MidSouthCon.

I hope they will have many more...

This is a collection of stories, a few previously published--but a whole lot more NEW stuff, including two never before seen novellas--concerning Conor the Mercenary, his wife Eithne the Healer and their adopted son Rhoyd, who will be the ARD MAGISTER one day.

A lot of fun and serious tales about the threesome who inhabited my first novel.

Go out. Order. Make my Publisher Proud.

Oh, and here is the cover:

The weather here has been a bit more balmy than usual for this time of the year.  Tornado season normally does not start until the middle of the month of March, but apparently, between the warmer weather and the battery of cold fronts still trying to move through, we are getting hammered here in the south.

For me, it has mostly been wind, rain, and occasional hail.  Around me, there have been more tornados than we want to see.

As I was driving to work this morning, I passed a cow pasture that I usually pass where I see black angus cattle and a jack (for those who don't know what a jack is, it's a male donkey and they are great watchdogs when you have cows calving in the spring because they will go after some intruders and give warning about others).

Today, as I passed said pasture, I noticed the billboard that normally sits near the edge was no longer standing upright.  In fact, it was across the pasture fence.  Some of its metal parts were twisted and tossed across the road, into the median ditch and on over on the other side of the four lane.

I heard a couple of patrons report that they had lost trailers on their property close by.  The library where I work was still standing on top of the hill, and looked none the worse for wear.  Which is a good thing...

Weather like this is always rather distressing.  Especially for folks who have been hit hard and lost their homes or other property.  But of course, it is also part of living in the south.  Here in East Tennessee, the terrain is not so flat as it is in the midwest, so our twisters are often hopping, skipping and jumping about the area.  Whether or not you get hit kinda become a game of chance.  Further south where the lands flatten out, tornados have no barriers.  They waltz along undeterred and spread damage over greater areas.

Given a choice, even with the tornados we have here, I would prefer to live in the more mountainous range that I do than on the flat ground.  Mind you, it means driving in icy weather a real danger because hills are notoriously slick. 

But it is also a matter of my roots.  I love the area I live in because I feel a kinship with it, especially when I am up in the mountains.

And roots are often important to a writer.  They sometimes define us for what we are.  They determine the voice with which we write.

My storyteller roots are long and deep.  I have sat on the porches listening to my elders.  I have sat in the room with them at gatherings while they tell tales of their elders.  I have even laid in my bed listening to their voices in the next room when I was deemed to young to stay up with them.

So riding out the storms is just another part of who and what I am.

Besides, one never knows when fate is going to choose that particular moment to pluck you out of existence.  Better to just live on, to be cautious when the storms are coming through and to live life the best you can.

Makes it soo much easier.