Edgy Mama

Ash Vegas posted that yesterday was Blog Day, which was created with the belief that bloggers should have one day dedicated to getting to know other bloggers from other countries and areas of interest. On that day Bloggers will recommend other blogs to their blog visitors.

As I was caught up in the Ash Vegas gasoline drama, I missed this significant event, but I had planned on doing some pimping today anyhow. Here’s my one day late contribution to the cause: Todd, whom I met at the Yosemite Writers Conference, e-mailed me this note yesterday:

Curse you, blog-woman. Omigod! I just found myself in your blog! That was a shocker, but very sweet.

I am now a blogger, sort of, and I officially am blaming you for all the sleep I’ve lost so far.

I’ve been blamed before for causing sleep loss, but never because of blog inspiration. Check out Today Cafe. Todd has the story-telling gift and an unique perspective on life in his small town.

Another thing I guess I should mention is that, unless you write “Cone of Silence” in the title of your e-mails to me, you might just find yourself quoted in Edgy Mama.

Lots of craziness here in Asheville, and elsewhere around the Southeast. Gasoline is suddenly in short supply, and folks are freaking out. There’s only Supreme left in town, and not much of it, even at $3.20 ish per gallon. The three gas stations I pass on my drive home from C’s preschool were packed with cars waiting for a pump–the line snaked out into the busy four-lane road.

I stopped to talk to an attendant, who was pumping gas for an elderly lady. He said the craziness started early this morning, when the station learned that no delivery would be made, and the pumps slowly began to go dry. I’ve heard that supplies may take up to a week to arrive. I’ve also heard that supplies will arrive tommorrow. There will be a County press conference in a couple hours, followed by an announcement on the local news station.

I have vague memories of the gas shortages of the 1970s–I didn’t think it would happen again for several more years. But Katrina plus Iraq plus Washington idiocy have brought us to this. Change is not coming, it’s here.

I’m posting these photos from home, y’all. Sadly, I’m back in NC. Actually, I’m thrilled to be home. I missed my kids. Also, I can BREATHE again–without Sudafed.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to rotate my landscape photos in order to post them. I have a gorgeous shot of El Cap, but it only wants to post sideways. Oh well.

There are a few more photos below if you haven’t been here in the past 24.

Me and the NC chicks who gave us a ride to Glacier Point. Toccoa, the blonde, was at the writers conference and lives in Charlotte. I’m trying to get her to Asheville for the NC Writers Network Conference in November.

Bunny, the brunette, lives in California now. She was concerned about leaving me and E-spouse in the park once she learned we were going to hitchhike out. Which, despite the fact that it’s illegal in California, was the easiest and most pleasant ride finding I’ve ever experienced.

Yosemite National Park is spectacular, awe-inspiring, magnificent. Indescribable, really. If you’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, put it on your top 10 places to visit list. Hell, put it on your top five list.

This is where we began our first day’s hike–on the nine-mile Panorama Trail, which starts at Glacier Point, winds down, up and around Yosemite Valley, past Nevada and Vernal Falls, and down into the Valley. Amazing.

Two most important items in my backpack? Water and Motrin. I’ll post some more photos tomorrow. Ansel Adams I’m not, nevertheless, I got some pretty sweet shots.

Sending thoughts and prayers to the people of New Orleans. I wish you all safety through the storm.

Okay, I’m a bit tipsy–two beers on top of Sudafed and a completely empty stomach. I mean, who needs food? And since I’ve had NO exercise for two full days…

Blogging is what has kept me sane. One, it’s writing, which is one of the reasons I am able to present as a fairly normal human being. Two, you guys are part of my tribe, my support group. And even if a lot of these conference people are snobby and cliquey (is that a f***ing word? Sorry, Mom), I still have you…plus some very cool folks I’ve met who are going to be reading Edgy Mama soon and realizing that I am a force to be reckoned with…or something.

So, there’s this writer here, whom I’ve never even heard of, dammit, who runs these workshops in Fresno and on-line. A bunch of the conferencees are students of hers, and it is a cliquey group (except for Ryan, who tried to pull me in AND who bought me a beer–so even though you disappeared, Ryan, I’m not sending my guys after you, because, ummmmm, Neil, even though he’s a funny Jewish writer with cute glasses, would drive up from LA and kick your butt if I asked).

Anyway, I learned a lot today. Like I need to rewrite my entire novel as a Young Adult novel. And Suzuki needs to be Latina. And I have only a 2% chance of being published. And even then, I may have to pay for my own publicity. And fantasy/science fiction are nearly impossible markets to break into. And, sorry, Stephen King, but horror is dead. Whatever, y’all.

So, Ash and I (and whomever else is interested) are going to start a flash fiction blog. It’s going to be sexy and innovative and, of course, edgy.

And, o, my friends, I will be in the promised land of Yosemite National Park tomorrow. And Chad, I would LOVE to read your short story. And I will make it as a writer, somehow, someway, even if I don’t make any money. I will follow my passion.

It seems that I truly am allergic to California. No virus vectoring this time. The keynote luncheon was outside, and I sneezed through the entire presentation. Now I’m on the Sudafed train, after learning that this has been a baaadd allergy season in sunny CA., and the cedars are tossing handfuls of potent pollen into the air every second.

The keynote, a writer named S.J. Rozen, was great–really personable and funny. She writes mysteries, none of which I’ve read, but I’m adding her books to my list. There’s this huge table of books in the conference-area hallway that keeps sucking me into its magnetic field. As my suitcase already weighs about 80 pounds (shoes, baby) I’m trying to resist buying books, but damn, it’s difficult.

I’m meeting some cool people. Todd, this big teddy bear of a guy who wears a piratish bandanna on his head and has a full white beard, is my conference soulmate. He woke up at 3:30 a.m. and was inspired to read Edgy Mama, delving deep into the archives (what is in there, anyway?) and discovered that we both think A Shadow of the Wind is one of the greatest books ever written. Todd is going home to start a blog, so welcome to the ‘hood, big guy. We’re looking forward to seeing you around (I guess I should speak for myself–but I know y’all will like him).

Yesterday, I noticed this woman who was dressed a lot like me–hippie girl skirt, blue jean jacket, beat-up sandals but with a pedicure, so I chatted her up. Turns out she’s from Charlotte, NC. Should have known. You can always tell Southern women by the state of their toenails. When I lived in London and Boston, other women would always comment on my pedis. I had not realized before that this was such a Southern female point of pride. I mean why wouldn’t you paint your toenails? Next time you’re in a roomful of people from all over the country who are wearing sandals, check out the women’s feet. I bet 90% of those with painted toenails are Southerners.

…for all the support and love. Having agents request material is a baby step, but it’s a step.

I resisted the urge to spend the night revising and rewriting, and, actually, finally, got a good night’s sleep–despite the mucus.

Today I plan to spend most of the day “around the water cooler.” Chatting with people casually is much more fun and productive than conferencing. There is a workshop on writing the perfect book synopsis that I will be soaking up.

So, only one other struggling writer whom I’ve talked to at this conference has small children–a guy. The demographics primarily fall into two categories: youngish folks who have yet to start on the procreation journey, and folks whose kids are older–high school or college age or beyond. My conclusion: raising children and writing books at the same time may be one of the crazier things I’ve done in my life. And I’ve done some crazy things.

I just had two wonderful face-to-face pitch meetings with two beautiful agents, both of whom are interested in Janus Watchers!!

The conference director says that this is unusual–of all the folks the agents meet with over the weekend, they might only ask to see the work of three or four people–sometimes fewer.

But this means that I’m going to have to edit and synopsise like a mad woman when I return. One agent wants the first 30 pages plus a 6-10 page synopsis; the other wants the entire f***king mess of a novel.

Lots of colorful cuss words mixed with praise to various goddesses and large pine trees going on here. Miss you all!