Front Porch, Writing

Views on Our Front Porch

Given this heat, I’m spending a great deal of my time on our front porch. Alas, we don’t have air-conditioning, just two noisy fans that at least keep the warm air moving inside the house. So, out of necessity and comfort, it has become my new writing and research space as well as our living and dining room. Yes, I am writing this post out here. I have my first cup of coffee with me. I’m still in my night clothes, but it’s early, so nobody’s around except the cat and me.

I sincerely thank the people who built this bungalow in 1900 for creating a front porch that is large and situated so it channels the breezes from the tree-filled hill to the right of it. I’m glad the owners before us didn’t glass or screen it in.

Hank built its four comfy Adirondack chairs with wide enough arms to accommodate my laptop and piles of paper, so handy as I come to the end of editing my most recent book — more later. There are two rockers, tables, and houseplants that are summering outside. We have mellow chimes and bells collected over the years hanging from the light blue ceiling.

To the right of our property, ancient trees separate us from the village’s Catholic church. (During the height of COVID, they celebrated Mass in the parking lot so it was like we were there with the parishioners.)

Here, I have a good view of our neighbors’ homes, old like ours, and what the people who live there do and grow in their yards. Nothing outrageous I might add. I’d say we are lucky to have such good, friendly people living near us. We converse and even play cribbage or scrabble. The woman who lives to the left always shouts “Howdy, neighbor!” when she sees us. Way beyond this part of our village is a large wooded hill with a fire tower. We can watch the leaves change — greening in the spring and reddening in the fall.

Hank and I will sit out here talking or not talking, often with a hot or cold beverage, as we watch and listen to the birds, especially the cardinals and blue birds, but even they are staying put during this heat. The bugs surprisingly are minimal. There are small wild mammals and lots of cats. The other day Hank was startled from meditating — yes, it is a great spot for that — when a groundhog walked onto the porch. I heard the laughter when he was startled by the animal walking toward him although it eventually left.

Right now, our cat, Stella sits on the porch railing as she overlooks her realm. While I was editing my book Saturday, she came toward the porch, making a sound that means she is damn proud she has an animal in her mouth. She dumped the rather large mouse, close to death, near my footstool, played with it a bit, and then moments later proceeded to eat it. I could hear her teeth crunching bones. She left behind the head, heart and guts, which I had to clean up. Thanks a lot cat.

So here’s the part about the book. Following the Lead is no. 6 in my Isabel Long Mystery Series, which I began in February, is done, well, sort of. Yes, I reached the 75,000 word mark. The next step was to print the manuscript and get out a red flare, my weapon of choice. Every day last week, including a rainy one, I sat on the porch, marking up my manuscript before I loaded the edits into the computer.

I feel happy about what I accomplished with Following the Lead, so today I will used my computer’s read-aloud function to listen to my book. It’s part of the editing process. I bet the neighbors won’t mind.

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: That’s the manuscript for Following the Lead on my outstretched legs on our front porch. Yes, I do have long feet. You can read about them in this post from 2013 when we lived in Taos: https://www.joanlivingston.net/uncategorized/big-feet/

MY BOOKS: I’ve started rereading my Isabel Long Mystery Series from the beginning. I want to make sure I’m maintaining the same quality throughout, especially as I mentioned above that I am near the finish line for no. 6. I’m on the first, Chasing the Case and enjoying what I wrote, which frankly is a huge relief. Here’s the link to the my books, including the series: https://www.amazon.com/Joan-Livingston/e/B01E1HKIDG

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Writing

This Is Where I Write

I can write anywhere. I proved that when I was a journalist. But the kind of writing I do now — fiction — deserves its own dedicated space. Fortunately I have one in our home.

Recently, I reread Stephen King’s book On Writing in which he talks about his writing space, a desk shoved in the corner of a room beneath the eaves. He traded in his grand desk for something handmade and smaller.

Years ago, a friend gave me the book, The Writer’s Desk, which contained photos by Jill Krementz of where 56 famous authors wrote. Published in 1996, many of them are no longer with us although their writings certainly are such as Ralph Ellison, Katherine Anne Porter, and Kurt Vonnegut (Krementz’s husband). Many have spaces filled with paper. Most have windows. Their computers are antiques by our standards.

Each author offered a short essay about their writing space. Here’s one I can relate to from Amy Tan, “I surround myself with objects that carry with them a personal history — old books, bowls and boxes, splintering chairs and benches from imperial China.”

My space is situated in our second bedroom, where through the windows I can see our large deck, the neighbors’ homes, trees, and beyond, a high wooded hill with a fire tower on top. (It is certainly not the view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains I saw from my office when we lived in Taos, New Mexico, but this is New England village life.)

Most of the time I don’t bother looking. My attention is on my computer screen.

I am fortunate to have furniture hand-built by Hank. Or I should say Hank-built. The desk is Shaker-style, when he was into that style of woodworking, with the top made from black walnut he salvaged from a job long ago — the homeowner told him to get rid of it. It has enough space for my laptop and on either side, the tansus Hank built with drawers and shelves to hold paper, writing and tech supplies. On the top of one is a collection of odds and ends I’ve collected or have been gifted over the years — from a hand-carved, painted Japanese couple I found in a library yard sale to interesting rocks, a bar of soap from Portugal, and pieces of driftwood. A clay vase resembling an Aztec relic, which I bought at TJ Maxx, strange by true, holds writing utensils. 

Hank also built a trashcan I use to recycle paper and a filing cabinet that holds my printer. Yes, I am lucky to be married to a skilled woodworker.

The office chair, which I bought for five bucks at the church’s annual tag sale next door, is kind of crappy. I have a nice oak office chair I got at the same sale last year, but I need to make some cushions.

On the walls I have a bulletin board (yes, built by Hank), photos, art and Native weavings.

I keep the space neat and don’t let the paper, coffee stains or crumbs get out of control.

No music except from the birds outside.

Sometimes I bring my computer onto the front porch of our bungalow or to the deck’s table to work. Usually it’s to catch up on email or do research. Sometimes, I will print a few chapters to mark up. But nothing too serious happens in either place.

When I sit down to write, say around 6 a.m. (a far more civilized time than 5 a.m. when I had a job), I feel this is my place. Here, I am at my best channeling whatever’s in my brain into the book I am writing. Right now, I am several thousand words away from finishing the sixth book in my Isabel Long Mystery Series. This is the exciting part where all the pieces fall together and fortunately, I have just the space to do it.

IMAGE ABOVE: That’s my writing desk.

MY BOOKS: Here’s the link to my books on Amazon and thanks for your interest: https://www.amazon.com/Joan-Livingston/e/B01E1HKIDG

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Isabel Long Mystery Series, Writing

When Inspiration Hits

It turns out, for me, at least, that can happen anytime. Yes, some ideas for my books come when I’m in the shower, riding in a car, or doing some physical chore that allows my brain to drift elsewhere. Sometimes it happens while I was on a walk, which happened yesterday, and talking with somebody, ditto. Let me tell you about it.

As you’ve probably know, I’m a seat-of-your-pants kind of writer. No outlines. No notes ahead of time. I get up early, although not as early as I did — 5 a.m. — when I had a job. I toast a half-bagel and pour myself a large mug of coffee, then log on to my computer. After checking with the news, I open the manuscript on my screen and pick up where I left off. My fingers fly as the words come to me. I don’t understand how it happens, but I welcome it.

But back to those inspiring moments, those are the ones that often help to fill in the blanks that will make the story better. Currently, I am in the midst of no. 6 in my Isabel Long Mystery Series — Following the Lead. I don’t want to give away too much, but Isabel’s old boss hired her for this case. He wants to know what happened to his sister, who was taken from the family’s yard when she was a baby fifty years ago. (It’s more complicated than that.) Lin believes he might have even met a woman who could have been his sister. How would he know? She had a distinctive facial feature that is hereditary, and on my walk, it came to me what it could be. While I am not divulging what it is, I had to rush home from my walk to make that addition.

Then, last night, I was at my son Zack’s  Floodwater Brewing for Comedy Night when I was approached by two local fans. One man reminded me that I had told his friend I planned to bump him off in my next book. While I don’t remember the moment, I believe I said it. His pal is a friendly guy who’s also a likable wiseass that doesn’t mind getting it dished back to him. My understanding is that he would be more than honored to get killed off in my next book.

As I sat there, enjoying the comedians’ jokes, my mind kept going back to that conversation. And then it came to me how I could do it. I hadn’t planned on bumping anyone off in this book, but I’ve had a change of heart about a character Isabel is trying to meet. And perhaps after last night’s conversation, he won’t be long for this world.

So, this morning, I jumped right into the book, made a few changes here and there before moving on with the story. Yes, they all work.

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: We happen to live not far from the tracks that freight trains take from the western part of the state to Boston. Long before we moved here, passenger trains used those tracks with a stop in our village — there are plans maybe to bring that back. The village also has the Shelburne Falls Trolley Museum, which contains lots of rail paraphernalia and short tracks for its trolley. This sign, located at the end of each, is rather fitting for this post.

LINK TO MY BOOKS: Here you go — Joan Livingston books on Amazon

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Isabel Long Mystery Series, Writing

Now in the Middle

Well, I am actually past the middle of my next mystery as I write this post. So, let me back up a bit and tell you what I actually did when I reached that point for Following the Lead is no. six in my Isabel Long Mystery Series.

As I did with the others, I aim for about 75,000 words, long enough I believe to tell a good story. So half of that is 37,500, which I reached several days ago. As I post this, I’ve reached 40,500.

I aim for 500 words a day, and except for a day here or there when I wasn’t home, I’ve maintained that pace since I began in earnest early in February when I retired from journalism. Somehow it works for me although once in a while I surprise myself and hit a thousand.

So, reaching mid-way, I decided it was time to print out what I had written thus far and get out the red marker. At this point, I am a little hard on myself. Gee, didn’t I use that phrase somewhere else? Hey, I would expand this part more. Oops, I need to go back to an earlier chapter to fix some loose threads or revisit one of the earlier books to see if a “fact” (this is fiction after all) is correct. Surely, there’s another way to write this part.

Besides finding the usual typos and missing words, it’s an opportunity to immerse myself in the book’s story and its characters, especially as Isabel Long moves forward with her most recent case. But first, I make the corrections and additions on the computer’s document.

What is this case about? This one involves a baby taken fifty years ago and never found although the man who hires Isabel is convinced he met her once by chance.

Now, like Isabel Long, I will keep going until I reach the end.

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: This is the second year this amaryllis has bloomed. Its sister amaryllis is getting close to blooming — the fourth time including last summer.

LINKS TO MY BOOKS: Interested in the Isabel Long Mystery Series? I will make it easy for you to find it on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Joan-Livingston/e/B01E1HKIDG

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Gardening, Writing

The First Dig

Ever since the snow melted, I’ve wanted to dig in the dirt. My flower beds will stay undisturbed until it gets much warmer, but my initial focus is on expanding my vegetable garden. So, yesterday, I got a shovel out of the garage and began. Like other things that I do, including my writing, it’s a matter of starting and keeping with it.

I had a vegetable garden I built at the other homes we owned. But the one we have now in Shelburne Falls has a very small yard largely shaded by large trees that thankfully keep the house cool during the summer but don’t permit much sunshine. Then there are the deep slopes and one large swarth of level land the previous owners unfortunately allowed to be consumed by the invasive Japanese knotweed that is so difficult to remove. The only spot for a garden is at the top of the backyard hill that abuts land owned by the Catholic Church next door.

So, I created a garden from the grassy, weedy spot. I removed what was growing and then proceeded to supplement the soil — I dug down about two feet — with compost and manure. In the end I had a 5-by-10-foot garden read to plant last year.

I didn’t expect much. After all it takes a while to build a soil’s wealth and there had never been a garden here. I was also warned not to grow anything the deer that wander in from the woods might like. That first year crop included tomatoes, three kinds of peppers, onions, beans, and squash, including a couple of volunteers that came from seeds from the compost. It was a decent first effort. (I also planted garlic in the fall for this year’s crop.)

My focus this year is expanding to the areas I covered with black plastic — I recycled the compost and manure bags — to kill what had been growing there. So itching to get started, on my first dig, I expanded the original plot by 18 inches on each side. Now, there are two deep, long trenches ready for compost and to be backfilled with the dirt I saved plus other nutritional stuff I will add. It wasn’t that warm yesterday, but the sun was strong enough that I shed my jacket.

Frankly, I don’t do much thinking in my garden. For me, digging is one of those “be here now” experiences. Yesterday, I forgot about finishing our taxes and other stuff on my to-do list. I pushed the shovel into the ground with my foot, shook out the dirt from the dead plants before tossing them into a hole I’m trying to fill, and lifted the soil on top of the existing garden for later. Today, I will work on the vertical expansion. Tomorrow we’re getting rain.

It’s one shovelful after another. I see similarities in my style of writing. I stay totally focused while enjoying the moment — digging one word after another as I work toward a bountiful end. And the more I do it, the better I get at it.

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: A selfie in my sunny garden.

A LINK TO MY BOOKS: Interested in my other growing project? Here is the link: Joan Livingston Books on Amazon

 

 

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