Today I’m grateful for the falling leaves. Our maple trees are almost bare now — I’ve filled and re-filled the yard debris bins about half a dozen times. Steve and the kids would have helped, if I had asked. But I kind of wanted to do it all by myself and use the time to meditate.

The small amount that was left today got swept out into the street. (Like how i put that into the passive voice? “The leaves found themselves swept into the street.” As if I had nothing to do with it.) I also put some under the burning bushes, to give the critters a place to hide out. (We’re reading “The Mouse and the Motorcycle” for the 2011/2012 Oregon Battle of the Books. It makes you eyeball life in a different way, thinking of it from a mouse and his boy’s point of view.)

In our former town, you could get old and wrinkled waiting for the street sweepers/leaf getters to come by. Out here, they stop by regularly. So I’m grateful for them, too. Thanks, dudes.

But mainly I’m happy today cuz I went to water aerobics, got coffee, stopped by the library and the store, then came home and worked on the leaves. I’m stretched out and relaxed now. it feels good. Am warmed up physically and mentally and now? I write.

have a superfine Monday.

— wm

I’m following the Lovely Laura’s lead here, and every day this month will post something I’m grateful for. It’s already the sixth, so I’d better catch up!

1st of November) As always, I am grateful for Steve and the kids.

2nd) Also grateful for our extended family and friends.

3rd) Grateful that the U.S. soldiers might come home from Iraq by end of the year. Please, oh please? I have been hoping for this for many years now. My son’s entire life, pretty much.

4th) Grateful that the entire house is clean. (thank you, moi. I love cleaning the house on Fridays so we can play on the weekend and get other stuff done.)

5th) Grateful that we ran to the mall, found the stuff my daughter needed for her band performance, and ran home. I remain relatively unscathed by the experience.

6th) Thank you, Daylight Savings Time. Really grateful for that extra hour this morning.

Whew, caught up!

— wm

“Beloved” (Toni Morrison) — I have tried, and failed, to read “Beloved” at least a half dozen times since it was released in 1987. “Song of Solomon” had a profound influence on my life when I read it for the first time, at age 18. “The Bluest Eye” is astounding, as well. But “Beloved” is the one that made everyone sit up and take notice of Morrison. All I could think was, About time. This time I won’t let it elude me.

“A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster” (Rebecca Solnit) — I think I picked up this copy at church one Sunday. (We have a great bookstore — it’s one of the many reasons I feel at home at my church.) I’m reading it slowly; it’s tough going. But Solnit is a gifted reporter, and has a good ear for dialogue. I also appreciate the way she presents/interprets her stats/facts and weaves in history.

“Blue Nights” (Joan Didion) — Just finished this one. So painful to read, but I loved “The Year of Magical Thinking.” Loved this one, too. It’s written like a love poem to her late daughter, Quintana Roo Dunne Michael. I have always been devoted to Didion, but after these two books, she has my fierce and appreciative loyalty like never before. I hope she can find peace. She deserves that.

“How to Be an American Housewife” (Margaret Dilloway) — Wow. Great read. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. I kind of love it when that happens, don’t you? It’s the story of the struggles and challenges facing a Japanese woman who marries an American following World War II. It’s well-written, and the heroine grabs you by the collar and keeps you next to her, right from the first page. Highly recommended.

This is one of my favorite posts ever. My kids are getting too big for tricker treat now, but don’t you dare try to tell them so. They’ll cut ya.

More later…

wm

Not even kidding! My mom just finished reading my novel (finally, good God), and yes, the verdict is in and she likes it.

Thank you, Jeebus. This from the woman who never reads my blog. (“You still write your little blog?” Yes, I do, woman.)

So what more glowing recommendation do you need than that? Also, my sister thinks it’s great! (Yeah. You think I’m like, damning with faint praise or pointing out the obvious or something, but they love to read, and I drive them both a little “bonkers,” so for them to like my book? This is high praise. My entire life I’ve been shoving pages in their faces and yelling READ THIS RIGHT NOW! “Alright, already, calm the hell down, Sylvia.“)

(ps private note to my cousin and my father-in-law, who as far as I know are my sole family members who read The Blog… Hi, you guys! kiss kiss.) (My sister does read it sometimes, I think. Steve, too, but I think only because I follow him on Facebook and he feels “obligated.” Since FB and Twitter took off, I have about four readers total, I believe.) (Yeah, my daughter and son glance at the site once in awhile, but only to make sure they’re not mentioned. They’ve forbidden me to write about them here. Ever. Hi, you two. Mommy loves you!)

If you have a Kindle, buy yourself a copy. Gift one to a friend while you’re at it. If you don’t have a Kindle, go read the excerpt and maybe you’ll want to order a copy when we start printing ’em. (Steve is putting finishing touches on the tech stuff as I type this.) We’re working with Create Space on Amazon — will keep you posted as we battle through our latest tech-geek adventure. (Thanks, Stevie. Sorry you haven’t had any weekends off in… uh… a long time.)

Will it be on the Nook? Who knows. We’re trying. But Amazon and Barnes & Noble don’t seem to groove that well with each other at the moment, do they now? (understatement of century.)

Apparently some of the snobbier book critics out there refuse to read/review any books that are self-published. Well, how are they going to enjoy my fine book if they stick to this rule? I’ve never peed in anyone’s pool in my life, thank you very much. Well, there was that time when I was 6, but hello! I was 6!

It’s not like I haven’t tried to get an agent/publisher — I have. For years. If I wrote books whose covers were illustrated with high heels, champagne glasses, baby bottles and binkies, I think I’d have a better shot. But you know what? As much as I love that genre (“jenner,” as my late friend Milly called it. “I love that jenner!”), it’s not my style. My stuff is a little… dark. Funny. Intense. Creepy. I cut to the bone. What’s wrong with that? I made a deal with myself, when I was a really little kid, that I would only write stuff that was no bullshit. Cut to the chase. The bone, if necessary.

I was furious, senior year in high school, because this stellar essay I wrote was “too personal,” according to my English teacher. Imagine.

(How did I know it was stellar? My teacher told me.) He wouldn’t let me read it aloud at an event they had on campus. I was one of three students whose work was entered in a contest for the National Council of Teachers of English. They were allegedly honoring us. Well, not all of us. Yeah, it was a big deal and all. Except if you were me.

You know who got the glory? A guy who wrote a story that was a complete and total rip-off of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, right down to the stinkin’ albatross. Where is the justice? (That was me, walking home from school, waving my fists at the heavens.) That’s called plagiarism, ya idiots!

You know the only reason “Confederacy of Dunces” was published? The author, the brilliant and misunderstood John Kennedy Toole, took his own life. He was depressed over his book not getting published, that’s why. Some idiot editor told him it had no point. If you haven’t read “Confederacy of Dunces,” you need to read a copy of that, too. You will see that it is A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. (One of my favorite book titles of all-time, btw.)

Kennedy’s mom, Thelma Toole, went a little crazy, herself, after her son died. She was determined as hell to get his book published. “Each time it came back I died a little,” she said, about the numerous rejections she received. Finally, she barged into the office of writer Walker Percy, who was then a prof at Loyola University New Orleans. He was a little concerned that she was apeshit, because, you know. She was.

But then, guess what? He read the book. He fell in love with it. And he helped to get it published.

See how important mothers are?

Also, if Toole had been able to self-publish as easily as we can nowadays, maybe he would have stuck around to write some more books. That would have been nice, but like they say in Texas, que sera sera.

Now go read my stuff and pssst… pass it on.

xoxoxox

wm

Michael: “And you finished off the whole bottle?”

Michael: “I think that’s another of mom’s fibs, like ‘I’ll sacrifice anything for my children.'”

“It’s no use arguing with somebody like me.” — Calvin Trillin

We caught writer Calvin Trillin on the Daily Show last week. Man, is he funny. Go buy a copy of his new book, and buy some of his other books, too, while you’re at it.

Lynda Barry, how I love thee. Let me count the ways:

1) In the beginning, there was Poodle with a Mohawk. (“He knew what people thought of his kind: ‘High Strung. ‘Spoiled Rotten.’ ‘French.'”)

2) Then there were Marlys and Maybonne, who always managed to comfort me as they comforted themselves.

3) There was the time I caught a special about Lynda Barry on cable TV. She was introducing an audience to some of her big paintings, and she was amazing, the way she talked about her art. “See? In this one, she’s saying, ‘Perdon?'” She was cracking herself up and I thought, You can be an artist and really have some fun with it. And if people don’t like your stuff, or say it doesn’t count, well, screw ’em. (Honestly, I was already getting that reaction from a lot of people about my writing. Too domestic, too much cussing, and then there was my complete and total refusal to re-write The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and claim it as my own. I do love Coleridge, Wordsworth and Donne, but my style is… my own style.)

4) I just really liked the way she put art + words together, and I loved how gritty her work was.

5) Lynda Barry is the best combination of fearless + goofy.

6) Her essay, “The Sanctuary of School,” is one of the finest essays I have ever read.

7) Just fyi: She went to the Evergreen State College. Their mascot is the geoduck. (Pronounced “gooey-duck,” for those of you not from these parts.)

8) She is friends with cartoonist Matt Groening.

9) My old friend Nina and I used to clip Lynda Barry’s cartoons out of the papers and mail them to each other, from the west coast to the east coast and vice-a versa-a.

10) You can pre-order her book, “Blabber Blabber Blabber.”

11) “Well, you little bad asses. How about that?” — Lynda Barry

Wacky Mommy, out.

“It is unwise to be too sure of one’s own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err.” — Mohandas K. Gandhi (1869-1948)

I get writer’s block.

I don’t “suffer” from it, but I “get” it, in that I understand, yeah, writing is a drag sometimes. Sometimes you run out of ideas, or you’re too busy, or the kids have dentist appointments and the hamster just died. (Our hamster did just die, truth be told. I miss her. Working from home gets a little lonely sometimes, and you find yourself visiting the hamster, just to see what she’s up to. “You got anything written yet? No? Me neither.”)

Mostly I just chug along — here, in my journal, on my other blogs. I scribble notes and leave them around, write letters to friends and family, send e-mails and post on those dang time-sucks that are known as “Twitter” and “Facebook.” It’s more hypergraphia than anything else. Without the epilepsy or manic depression.

I’m still working on my Dear Late Granny’s memoir/cookbook. I have all the writing done; it’s been done for awhile now. I’m concentrating on the recipes now, and it’s all tech, all the time.

I’ll get it done, but I’m not writing with my usual frenzy of excitement. It’s just… typing. I’m a writer, thus, I type.

Happy Tuesday, y’all.

— wm

http://youtu.be/x8iTeDl_Wug