Writing - grace grits and gardening

Writing a book. Ignoring everything else.

June 25, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner

I have big plans. Things I intend to accomplish around the house and beyond. Really, I do. Like the empty flower pots on the front porch and the planter boxes overgrown with mint. This is the first summer those pots have been ignored. Yesterday I thought about planting red and white flowers for 4th of July, that’s what I envision anyway, and maybe caladiums for height. This morning those pots look the same. Ignored. I’m surprised my neighbors haven’t intervened.

I also plan to get back to yoga regularly. And the messy bookcase in our bedroom needs attention. I want to help cook lunch for the VBS kids this week. Really, I do.

Yet all I do is write. All.I.Do.

For those of you who occasionally ask when can we buy your book, I offer this excuse/explanation.

I’m rewriting my entire manuscript, changing it from memoir to fiction, novella to novel, 125 pages to 300. This has taken a while, but I’m at the editing stage. At least I think I am. When I began this book writing journey, I had no idea what I was in for, but I am obsessed, and I love it. Manipulating sentencing, choosing words, bringing something ordinary to life. Except when I want to pull out my hair.

What’s my timeline? I’m still not sure, but I’m writing as fast as I can, and I’m getting closer (I think). My neglected flower pots out front are certain proof.

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

“E.L. Doctorow said once said that ‘Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.’ You don’t have to see where you’re going, you don’t have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice on writing, or life, I have ever heard.”
― Anne Lamott

Crop Dusters, Porch Swings and Home

June 23, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner

Arkansas…

sister-cousins

Sunrise

over rice fields,

crop dusters soar and dip,

cousins down the road, memories,

sunsets.

Texas…

porch swing days

Porch swing

days, early blooms,

margaritas and Mavs,

cowboys and music, neighbors who

gather.

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Back Down South, Kings of Leon

How High’s the Water Mammaw Ruby?

June 13, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner

Most of Mammaw Ruby’s customers lived in Victoria and Luxora. She even sold Avon to the gypsies living on the edge of Osceola. On Saturday, I helped her with deliveries. Her car was crammed with white sacks filled with lipsticks and lotions and rose-scented perfume. She said while we were out, we needed to see how high the Mississippi River had risen with all the recent rain, in case Papa Homer needed to build an ark.

morgueFile

Mammaw Ruby wasn’t known for her driving abilities.

Driving to the top of the levee, she hogged the entire road. I held my breath and prayed no one was speeding up the other side.

As her car straddled the levee, the river roiled only inches away lapping against the asphalt.

A tree floated by.

“I’ll swanee! We’re stuck!” Mammaw said in a panic. “I can’t turn around.”

“Let me out. I’ll walk.” There was no way I was going to drown in Mammaw’s car when she plunged over the edge. Even though I was a good swimmer, the current was dangerous. Daddy said if we EVER swam in the Mississippi River, we would surely drown.

Before I could escape, Mammaw reversed the car and backed down the levee the way we had come. The motor moaned. My knuckles cramped and clutched the door handle as I prepared to jump.

Later that night, I relayed the story to Momma at the supper table. Momma promised we would never again ride with Mammaw Ruby. Momma forgot all about that promise the next time she needed a free babysitter.

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Johnny Cash – Five Feet High and Rising

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Food. Farm. Garden. Life.