September 1 — wow. The year is slipping past quickly!
The winner of this month’s drawing for the two connected paperbacks, THE GROOM’S STAND-IN and THE BEST MAN’S PLAN is Lucero Hernandez of California. Congratulations, Lucero.
The October 1 drawing will be for a two-novels-in-one-volume prize. Click the Enter to Win! tab above for details. And remember, if your name wasn’t drawn this month, you’ll have to enter again to be eligible for the new drawing.
We live on ten acres of land and the whole family loves fresh summer vegetables. One would think we’d have had many gardens in the twenty years we’ve lived here. One would be wrong. I suppose the fact that we haven’t is my fault, mostly. I don’t enjoy gardening. I hate pulling weeds. Don’t like getting hot and sweaty. But this year, we tried something new — container gardening on our patio. My husband’s sister recommended the method — potting soil and a panty-hose leg full of fertilizer are placed in a large, lidded plastic storage container. Water goes into a PVC pipe sticking out of the top and is captured in a reservoir in the bottom of the container. The plants are inserted through X-shaped holes cut into the container lids. No weeds, no kneeling, quick and easy watering, we’ve had little problem with bugs — it’s great! I understand instructions for setting up the containers are on-line (hubby took care of that part).
We planted tomatoes, cucumbers and green and orange bell peppers. We’ve had some very nice tomatoes, with more growing now. A few cucumbers, though those plants haven’t exactly thrived. Still, I had a crunchy little cucumber in my lunch salad today, along with one of the tomatoes, and it was delicious. The bell peppers have been very successful; I harvested three big green peppers and three orange ones earlier today, and there are tons of them still growing on the plants. Considering that bell peppers are about a buck-fifty each in the store, we’re quite proud of ourselves. I particularly love them cooked on the grill in kabobs. I should have some to freeze for winter cooking.
We’ve learned a few things about container gardening that we’ll adjust next year, but it’s actually been fun. I like picking the fresh veggies (and yes, I know tomatoes are technically a fruit, but still … ) without even stepping off the patio, lazy “gardener” that I am. And I love eating them.
I suppose I could make this post fit the writer’s theme of my blog by talking about taking the seed of an idea, feeding and watering it and nurturing it into a full-grown story … but no. That’s stretching the metaphor way too far. Today’s post is simply about the unexpected pleasure my husband and I found this summer in our easy-to-grow container garden. Have you been surprised lately with one of life’s little joys?
Only three more days until the drawing for this month’s prize of two connected books. Click on the Enter to Win! tab above for details on how to enter. And remember, everyone who isn’t drawn this month will have to re-enter for next month’s prize, to be announced September 1.
We had an absolutely gorgeous weekend in Arkansas. The temperatures were in the mid-80s, the humidity was low, the skies were clear; it would have been a shame not to take advantage of that unseasonably pleasant lull to do something fun. So, my husband, son and I decided to attend an Arkansas Travelers baseball game Saturday evening. The Travelers are a minor league team who play out of North Little Rock’s beautiful new Dickey-Stephens Park on the banks of the Arkansas River looking across to the Little Rock skyline. The new park opened in 2007, and we’d yet to visit — hadn’t seen the Travs play in several years, actually — so this seemed like a good opportunity. The weather was perfect, the Travelers won 8-1 over San Antonio (with two exciting home runs), my husband indulged in nachos, I had cotton candy, and our son downed a funnel cake and a box of Cracker Jacks. We had a great time.
I loved the ambiance of the outing. The raucous choruses from the organ. The cheers and hoots of the crowd. The clash of inflatable “thunder sticks.” The smells of beer and popcorn. The gradual fade of sunny afternoon into under-the-lights nighttime. The kids in their baseball caps who gazed at the field and dreamed of pitching a no-hitter or crowded the railings hoping to catch a foul. The adults who cited statistics and swapped stories of great games past. The costumed mascot (“Shelly” — a buck-toothed horse) who posed with children and waved when they shrieked his name. The golden retriever, Jake the Diamond Dog, who carried water to the umpires in a basket, then cheerfully fetched bats and balls during the game. All the silly contests (banana races? mascot race?) between innings. Talk about a relaxing evening away from the stresses of everyday deadlines and chores!
Watching the players amble onto the field and warm up for the game, it occurred to me that they were, in effect, arriving at their office ready to go to work. It’s an interesting way to make a living, playing a game for other peoples’ enjoyment. But then, I suppose some people consider making up stories to be an odd way to pay one’s bills. I couldn’t hit a home run to save my life — my one summer on a girls’ softball team many years ago was a painfully humiliating experience (my lack of natural athleticism was coupled with an embarrassing tendency to faint in the hot summer sun out there in right field). I’m sure there are plenty of skilled ball players who couldn’t complete a novel. And yet, in the long run, those diverse careers serve the same purpose — they provide entertainment and escape, and I choose to believe that both have a valuable place in our busy and often-too-serious lives.
I hope you are able to take advantage of the next beautiful day in your life to have a little fun and escape your troubles. And if you choose to escape into a love story, don’t forget that DIAGNOSIS: DADDY, my Silhouette Special Edition, is on the shelves for only a few more days! (How’s that for a transition into blatant self-promotion?)
One more week until the drawing for the two autographed, connected paperbacks from my backlist, THE GROOM’S STAND-IN and THE BEST MAN’S PLAN. Click the Enter to Win! tab above for details on how to enter.
“Work like you don’t need money, love like you’ve never been hurt and dance like no one is watching.”
I would love to attribute this quote, but since I found about five different authors credited, I’ll just say that it is one of my favorite inspirational sayings. I’ve mentioned before that I’m easily embarrassed, so this quote speaks particularly to me. Sometimes we all need to just forget about what everyone else thinks or how they judge us and experience our too-short lives for all they’re worth — even the pains and disappointments that inevitably accompany the joys and triumphs.
I think this advice is especially apropos for creative types — writers, artists, performers — because the more we worry about pleasing everyone, making a lot of money, or trying to gain fame or awards, the more our work seems to suffer. Some of our greatest artistic works have come from people who were met time and again with rejection, or were pressured to change or conform.
I think of J.K. Rowling, who struggled financially and sometimes wrote on paper napkins, who was reportedly rejected by a dozen major publishers before she finally found one who would take a chance on her quirky and unique series about a young wizard in training for an epic battle. I think it would have been a great loss if she’d given up or let those naysayers derail her ideas or change the story she wanted — needed — to tell. I credit her for bringing an entire generation back to a love of reading; seeing a group of nine-year-old girls and boys immersed in a book with more than 700 pages was a thrilling sight for this life-long book lover. I stumbled upon her with the publication of her second book in the U.S. I was looking for books for my then-eleven-year-old son to read and saw a comment about her work on a writers’ internet forum. I ordered the first two for him in hardcover, and he loved them, telling his friends about them before any of them had even heard of Harry Potter. Though my now twenty-year-old son is more interested in video games than books, to my admitted disappointment, he is still a 4.0 student in college, and I credit a great deal of that to the good reading skills he developed growing up surrounded by books, including the Harry Potter stories. Now that he has an iPod Touch that allows him to download books through Kindle, he is reading more again, when he is in waiting rooms or on breaks from work or classes (and no video game is available). Whatever the media, I’m delighted whenever he tells me about something interesting he just read.
In one of my earliest posts on this blog (Why not romance?), I mentioned how often romance novels are scornfully dismissed or snickered at. They aren’t recognized as “real books” by the “literary” types. It’s too easy for romance writers to become defensive; I really hate it when readers who love romances feel the need to hide their books for fear of being judged or ridiculed. If I were to think about what a critic might say about my books, I would be unable to write at all. I try very hard to please my readers, and to tell a story that feels honest and entertaining to me — but I don’t worry about reviews or acclaim. I love romance, and even if I occasionally branch into a different genre just because another type of story intrigues me at the time, I suspect there will always be a developing relationship included in the plot.
On our recent trip to Branson, we watched the fire-and-fountain display that plays every hour at Branson Landing, a relatively new retail/restaurant/hotel complex on the banks of Lake Taneycomo. Syncronized to music (mostly classic rock, though I’ve also heard jazz numbers and Christmas tunes there), the fountains shoot high into the sky accompanied by noisy bursts of flame, from which you can feel the heat throughout the ampitheater where the crowds gather to watch. This little boy was totally into the music — Creedence Clearwater’s Up and Around the Bend. Oblivious of the audience, he danced in the spray from the fountains, throwing out his arms and enjoying every moment. When do we lose that unselfconscious ability to savor every experience in our lives? How much joy do we sacrifice because we worry that someone else won’t approve or will make fun of us?
So, my wish for you today is to dance like no one is watching … and savor every moment.
*****
Don’t forget to enter!
This month is half over, and at the end I’ll be drawing for the two connected paperbacks, THE GROOM’S STAND-IN and THE BEST MAN’S PLAN. Click the Enter to Win! tab above for details of how to enter the contest.
Available in stores now — DIAGNOSIS: DADDY, the first book in my Doctors in Training series.
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One of the downsides of being a writer is that it is an isolated job that encourages solitude. For a natural introvert — as many writers are — being a full-time writer sometimes leads to hermit-like behavior, living in a made-up world with imaginary companions. Especially since my children are grown and my chauffeuring services are no longer required, I’ve been known not to leave my house for days — once on a particularly tight deadline race, I didn’t leave the house for almost three weeks. My husband has taken on the job of making sure I get out sometimes, especially when he can see tension or frustration mounting. He told me one time, “There are no ideas left within these walls.” We went out that weekend, and he was right — I found several new ideas on our excursions. Since then, I’ve tried to make it a point to take off weekends (well, at least parts of weekends) and go out to do new things and see new sights to refill the creative well.
Sometimes, though, I prefer to revisit a place filled with memories rather than trying something new. At least once a year, I am drawn to Branson, Missouri. Only a three-hour drive away, it has been a vacation spot for my family since the 1960s, when my three younger brothers and I were small. Branson was still a rustic, picturesque little town with a smallish amusement park and a few country music shows back then. When I married and had children of my own, we took them there often, buying season tickets to the rapidly expanding Silver Dollar City for the occasional weekend getaway with the kids.
As my children grew, so did the area. Branson is a completely different place now, crowded with hotels and theaters and shopping centers and go-cart tracks and resort condos and souvenir shops and tattoo parlors. It revels in “tacky” — nearly every shop sells frantically bedazzled clothes and flashy faux jewelry and hillbilly souvenirs made in China. A huge building shaped like a sinking Titanic is a prominent feature of car-jammed Highway 76. The popular attraction bills itself as a museum; a huge billboard on the way into town features a broadly smiling woman in a maid’s uniform beckoning toward the building as though welcoming visitors to the sinking ship. I can’t bring myself to visit that particular attraction.
I’ve seen most of the other shows and attractions, though. Some are spectacular, others low-key. Silver Dollar City is still a great place to visit, with rides and shows and crafts — long lines, high prices, over-priced food, but still fun, especially with children. We no longer purchase season passes, though I still love to go at Christmas time to see the millions of lights and the Christmas-themed shows. They make the best hot chocolate anywhere on earth.
The shows in the many Branson theaters have been called cheesy and corny — and they are. Nearly every show includes a syrupy tribute to the veterans in the audience, a segment with gospel music sung by attractive young performers in white robes and with a cross displayed on a screen behind them, and a huge flag unfurling at the end accompanied by a rousingly patriotic song. Pure, processed American cheese. I don’t care. I love the shows — and I’ve been known to get teary-eyed right on cue as that flag waves. I expect schmaltz when I go to Branson — and I’d be disappointed if I didn’t get it.
It’s been a busy year for me, with one deadline stacked on top of another and several other projects on my agenda. The rest of the year is going to be a real challenge, with two books due and an upcoming writers’ conference to attend. Though I did get to visit New England in June when we helped our daughter and her husband move, we had only a couple of days to sight-see and I had to get back quickly to finish a book. There’s been no time for a real vacation, but my husband and I wanted to spend a few days somewhere with our son, who just finished a summer research job and starts college again on August 20.
I opted for Branson. It had been more than a year since we’d been, and I figured that was the perfect place for us to relax and just enjoy being together. We left Wednesday morning and returned Friday evening. We did some back-to-school shopping in the outlet malls (I grabbed a few bargains for myself), had a couple of very good meals (I didn’t wreck my diet too badly), played some miniature golf (the guys stomped me), and enjoyed dinner and a show on the Showboat Branson Belle. A friend’s lovely and talented daughter performs on the huge paddle-boat that cruises Lake Taneycomo during the show, and we thoroughly enjoyed the Broadway musical numbers, the requisite patriotic finale, and a ventriloquist/comedian who had all three of us laughing hysterically.
Mostly, I enjoyed revisiting the memories. We’ve made the drive through the beautiful Ozarks so many times that every landmark holds a memory. In and around the town are the places I visited with my parents and brothers, and later with my husband and children. I saw lots of grandparents there this time with their grandchildren — maybe I’ll have that pleasure someday. My mother particularly loved Branson. I smiled when I saw her favorite diner, her favorite theater, the place where she used to stay when she and her three sisters made their annual “sister trip” there. Our laughter-filled excursion on the showboat was on the second anniversary of my beloved mother’s death, another reason I needed the diversion. I know she would have approved our way of honoring her memory.
I got a couple of new ideas during my mini-vacation (and a few nice photos, which will probably pop up in this blog in the next few weeks). I’ve returned home refreshed and ready to get back to work. I hope you find time to recharge in your own way as summer winds down toward another school year and busy holiday season.
Gina Wilkins 