• my desktop, tidier than usual

    I’ve written a few novels (OK, four), had one published, but I’ve never written an actual synopsis of any of my novels. I’ve written dozens of query letters, sure. But I had a mental block against writing a 500-word condensation of my 80,000-word work product. That’s a problem because about half the hundreds of agents whose websites I’ve visited want a synopsis.

    Finally last week, I went off on a three-day writing retreat with my wonderful writer-mentor/friend Liz Engstrom determined to write a synopsis for a book I’ve been messing with for a decade. I wrote a terrible first draft of a synopsis. Then a pretty crappy second draft. Last night, I tidied up the pretty crappy second draft and today I have something that I would not be embarrassed to show others. More tweaking of it today. Then I will give my novel, The Macklin Powers, (in the young adult suspense genre) a final read. I believe early next week the hard work — getting it out into the world — will begin.

    I had help from various online how-to articles, and particularly liked the one in the link below. To be clear, I didn’t follow it exactly, but it got me over the mental noise that had held me back.

  • Blame the Romans — specifically Christian Emperor Constantine (321 common era) — for enshrining in civil law the concept of Sunday as a day of rest.

    Many faith traditions do this though not all have a weekly practice.

    I decided to take a day off from all of my computer devices, a day of no-laptop, no-iphone, no-ipad, and Sunday seemed like a good time to try it. I learned from this that I have trained my brain to use these devices as a kind of adult pacifier, going to them while waiting and then lingering when there’s no need to. Yesterday I lost track but estimate that six or seven times each hour (each hour!) I thought of reasons to grab one of my devices, to text someone, to look up “interesting” information, to send an email, to check my email, to occupy myself while waiting for the gas tank to be filled, etc.

    Mostly, I resisted. There were at least two things I asked my spouse to do for me: email a family member about an upcoming scheduled event and sign me up for a YMCA class that can only be signed up for online. I used my phone twice, once to call my mom and once to answer a text.

    Otherwise I stayed away from the Internet and its fascinating yet ensnaring rabbit holes. I existed in the real world.

    Among the things I got done yesterday: finished embroidering the dog rose (Trish Burr design), pictured above. I also took the time to block it, a finishing technique I often procrastinate.

    I organized a jumbled mess of dozens of recipes printed from online sources. I came up with a dinner plan for the week. Overall, some useful things got accomplished and I realized how I get sucked into hours of computer time by thinking that I’ll just jump on the Internet to “learn” one thing and then a couple of hours later, I’m still gawking mindlessly.

    I think I’ll make a practice of this fine tradition, brought to us by the world’s spiritual systems.

    Meanwhile, if you need a rabbit hole (it is Monday, after all), check out this explainer on the names of the week.

    https://www.britannica.com/topic/Sunday-day-of-week

  • Creative, I mean. Even if you think you aren’t.

    I love this book of poetry prompts by poet Joseph Fasano. In my book club, (OK, truthfully, my mother and two sisters meeting weekly on Zoom; we talk books to maintain fresh discussion points), we enjoy using the prompts in Fasano’s book to write. His prompts have shown us unexpected, playful images and sometimes powerful connections among our inner selves and the natural world, another kind of alchemy. We can be silly. We can be serious and we catch ourselves and each other off-guard in interesting ways.

    Here’s an example of a poetry prompt from the “The Magic Words.” followed by what I wrote using the prompt. What a fine gift Fasano has given with this book. A skilled poet is crooking a finger in our direction, saying: “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

    Here’s what I wrote: