Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Every year I write about snow
and every year it surprises me.
If no snowflake is the same,
then certainly no blizzard is either.
How scary when hail pelts the windshield,
How charming snow is nestled on the bird feeder.
There are storms that catch you unaware.
In your nightgown you watch
flakes bigger than fists fly at the windows.
Know it will all melt, the ice,
the piles at the end of the driveway.
Even now it is moving toward liquid.
Know you will stand at the window again
watching green pulses push from the garden.
Friday, December 10, 2010
I'm busy grading papers and reading theses and trying to finish up everything so I can think about the solstice and the end of the year and all.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
to finally see. Like a top you blur into a hum."
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
I'm about to start working on a new rug. I drew this picture and watercolored it many months ago. Since then I've been staring at it every once in a while.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The end of summer in Minnesota is marked by the state fair, which goes until Labor Day. The next day is the first day of school. I worked at the fair--first as a bus girl in a smorgasbord, then as a cashier, then as a manager of a waffle shop. I learned how to cram the most food on a tray--cover the whole plate with mashed potatoes, a good foundation for the sloppy food.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
This last weekend, the middle of August, "dog days" indeed, we had a celebration in Stockholm, WI, of dogs and books.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
I did two book signings this weekend--one in Red Wing and one at Abode, a lovely gallery in Stockholm, WI. I was signing Frozen Stiff, my new book, the eighth in the Claire Watkins mystery series—hard to believe. I've been thinking about the ninth book for a long time, almost since the series started. Ideas percolate in my brain for at least a year before I try to write anything down.
The process of collecting bits of information for a book reminds me of what I think quilting must be like--finding a piece of fabric that you think would be nice in a quilt and then slowly over time gathering more and more bits of fabric that somehow might fit with the first. Finally one day you have to sit down and start. You have to be bold and begin to write. Laying it out, changing the order, pinning it down.
I'm getting very ready to start. In a way, I have already. I taught a class at Hamline University this early summer and had my students do writing exercises every class period to get us in the mood. I always write along with them. And I aimed all my writing at this new book. So now I really do have bits and pieces. Other than doing these exercises, I'm a very linear writer. I start at the beginning and plow ever onward until I reach the end.
I have a few more events to get out of the way—a visit from an old friend, teaching for almost two weeks in a low-residency program at Hamline—and then I will launch.
Claire and I are old pals. I look forward to finding out where her life is headed.