Week 4:
The first chapter is done and I’m already bored with this whole project. Why isn’t my life as challenging and exciting as Diane Ladd’s in UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN? I could buy a villa and meet kooky new friends and fall in love with the wrong guy…(I’d be good at that last one!)


This must be that infamous muse…WRITER’S BLOCK. But my story is already written. Is there such a thing as REWRITER’S BLOCK? At least, I’m combining chapters two and three and the new chapter only needs a tweak or two. New Plan: cut the chapters told by William, rewrite a few strong chapters into Laurel’s voice and find a way to tie the story together without using so many “quilter’s knots.”

Loved, loved, loved my weekend read: TURTLE IN PARADISE. O inspiration, why did you abandon me so quickly?

Week 3:

Show, don’t tell. Ever writing class, every workshop, everything I know about writing preaches this concept. SHOW, DON’T TELL. This is the equivalent of rushing into a room and acting out (a la charades) that the house is on fire!


MOUNTAIN LAUREL begins with the single-most horrifying event in Laurel’s life-she was thirteen when Hattie Myers died. The South is known for their funerals and this one would prove to be the granddaddy of them all. When I began the story, I had to describe the events—hence the outline. I used the outline to set the stage. I used bullet points to add detail. Many, many rewrites later, I used that outline and begin the chapter where the action really begins—Miss Ella Mae Myers lying spread-eagle on her dead-as-a-doornail sister’s body. My story opens with a scream. So does life, when you get to thinking about it.

Week 2-Where Do I Begin?

Well week one slipped by and my journey to publication or rejection is well under way. Least I sound like I know what I’m doing, let me establish right up front I have two good friends to whom I turn for advice. Nancy, successful author and conference speaker, and Janet (writer buddy and very busy grandma) are there for me to bounce around ideas and tweak words, pick me up when I’m ready to give up and whoop and holler when I get the least bit of encouragement. Everyone should have a Nancy and Janet in their corner.

Remember this story was already written-almost 25,000 words of it. How do I take something of that substance and slice and dice it down into one tight little package? Advice from my would-be publisher: “…wherein each sentence pushes the story forward. What you may need is an over-arching story that keeps the knots together…” Over-arching means beginning, middle and end. Writing 101.

Where do I begin? How do I begin?

Outline.

On A Journey to Publication or Rejection?

I'm staring at my computer when an email pops up. It's not just any ordinary email, it's from a publisher who was doing a second reading on my at one time semi-biographical, now not-so-much story about my parents growing up in the Smoky Mountains. I began this story back in 2000 and oh! the twists and turns it has taken.
This latest challenge? A complete re-write. BUT she thinks it has merit. She even went so far as to compare my story to a well-know historical fiction that is so well-written, it blew my socks off. I was elated. I was high-stepping. I had HOPE!
Then reality set in. Another re-write? I can't possibly do another re-write.  What if I fail ? All that work! I don't have the (insert word here) time, energy, words, muster...
After much self pity, I took that first feeble step. I re-wrote the hook. Every story needs a hook--those opening comments that grab you at the get-go and forces you to turn the page. After many attempts, my hook still isn't perfect,  but it's getting there. Whoever said writing is easy, doesn't write. Tell me again why am I doing this????

How To Segway From One Project To The Next..

When last I wrote, I was filled with eagerness and expectations.  I couldn't wait to visit my favorite fabric shop and spend a few minutes running my hand over vintage fabric and selecting the very best match for my antique quilt.
But, remember Robert Burn's poem TO A MOUSE where he said:
The best laid plans of mice and men
Gang aft a-gley (Often go awry).
That's what happened to me and my ambitious plan to restore the beautiful heirloom quilt that belonged to my son's great-grandmother, on his father's side. I arrived at the shop to find a lady who was very knowledgeable in all things quilts. She had recently selected quilts to hang in a local museum that dated back to, well I've forgotten how far those particular quilts dated back to, but let's just say they're old.
She lovingly fingered my quilt and lightly touched the worn and frayed places like old friends. To restore such a prize was simply unthinkable in her mind. "No, you must not."
And so, I didn't. Instead, the quilt will go to my son, as is. He has already devised a clever plan. Recently, my son (the picker) purchased antique windows from a sale. He plans to create a showdow box, if you will, using matching wood to give it some depth, for storing and displaying the 1930s quilt. I think this is a clever idea and can't wait to see the finished product.
So, instead of my jouney through time to restore a family heirloom, I'll embark on another journey. This one, however, won't be so much fun. This one will involve discipline and exercise-two of the things I dread most.
Stay tuned for what I like to call "Living With Type 2 Diabetes," or "How In The Heck Did I Miss The Warning Signs When Diabetes Runs In My Family And I've Probably Read Up On It More Than Any One Other Person Alive While Caring For My Mother?"
Film at eleven...

Vintage quilts are used for anything from bed covers to wall hangings. If you're lucky enough to own a 1930s Antique quilt, display it for others to enjoy.

Recently, I embarked on a journey. I didn't purchase airline tickets, I didn't fill my car with gas, I didn't even buy new rubber-soled shoes. This journey was back in time.

Shortly prior to her death, my son's grandmother gave him a vintage 1930s quilt that she and her mother hand-quilted. The pattern was different size squares, hand sewn to form a quilt top, then hand-quilted onto a back, with batting in between.

For centuries, quilts were made by the women of the house to keep their families warm during the cold nights.  Many a young lady's hope chest wasn't complete until her very own quilt lined it's bottom. The actual making of the quilts often provided entertainment for housewives and Mothers. The earliest quilts were made from linen, wool and silk and the fabric was often imported. In the 19th Century, cotton was used for the first time from  scraps of leftover material from other sewing projects.

I remember visiting the boys' grandmother's house and seeing the huge quilt frame set up on saw horses in the living room. This particular quilt frame was square and had pins all around the edge. The quilt was stretched onto the frame and secured using the pins. This  allowed the quilter (s) to move around the room to quilt each section.

Today, I'm headed to the fabric shop to pick out the fabric needed to restore the quilt. As I begin this journey, I'll share my progress and my setbacks (I'm sure there'll be many!). Hopefully, at the end of this journey, I'll be able to post a picture of the finished project.

By Jove...nah! I don't got it.

Six years ago, I purchased an embroidery machine. I finally opened the box last Saturday. It already had a bobbin and the video taught me how to set the thread, so soon I was choosing a pattern. I decided on the simplest project: a bookmark for my granddaughter. After a few attempts, voila! Perfection! How sweet it is! See picture:

But I bragged too soon. Last night, the bobbin needed to be changed to a different color. Nobody told me how to do that...so back to the video. That darn instructor has done this before. She zipped through the instructions, zip, zip, zap. Her hand flew through the hooks and turns as she sped around the maze. Her bobbin was threaded perfectly. Mine, not so much.

After several hours of my top thread winding round and round the bobbin, I finally decided I'd done something wrong. Ya think??? The poor material didn't stand a chance with my feeble attempts. It's going to the salvage bin.

Goodbye lofty project. Farewell nifty idea. No, wait! I won't give in. I won't admit defeat. It's only a few pieces of metal, bent and hooked, to accept my thread offerings. I am master, here. I choose what color and pattern. I won't be whipped into submission by something named 'Brother.'

Stay tuned.