grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Almost Glamping at the Jonquil Festival!

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Glamping at the Jonquil Festival

Jonquil Festival!

A couple of weeks ago I shared a booth at the Jonquil Festival with fellow Delta author, Rhonda G. Williams. This was the first time either of us had sold our books at a craft fair. In fact, it was the first time I’d had a vendor booth at any fair. (I’ve been to book fairs with my publisher, but I wasn’t in charge. Totally different.) I wasn’t sure how this event would turn out. Local books and local crafts? Why not?

Truth: sitting under a canopy for three days subject to wind, cold, heat, humidity, rain—all the crazy Arkansas weather—life begins to feel like camping. And I prefer my camping with a touch of comfort. As in glamping.

Almost Glamping?

glamping at Jonquil Fest

So what’s glamping? It’s inspired camping. Camping with glamour. Glamping is about having fun, being adventurous, stringing up a paper chain and not worrying about making things perfect.

Almost glamping is what Rhonda and I did with our Jonquil Festival booth. While technically we “camped” in town at local hotels, we glamped up our booth.

Are you an author?

I have a theory. While nothing will replace engaging writing, an interesting title, and a compelling cover, a creative vendor booth will bring folks over and allow you to visit with them. Books don’t sell themselves. I’d like to believe someone walking by might glance over to our booth and think, “My, my, aren’t those ladies creative. Their books must be magical!”

See how it works? It makes perfect sense in my mind.Continue Reading

I don’t want to be timely.

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I don't want to be timely...
I don’t want to be timely. I want to be timeless instead.

Timeless, writing stories relatable today, tomorrow, yesterday, fifty years from now. A few lines of prose that grips your gut, makes you weep or howl with laughter. Words that spring from the page in bight blue ink, as blue as peacock feathers.

Timeless. Enduring. Like a number two pencil. A number two pencil purchased for a nickel at the bookstore at school, the bookstore just outside the principal’s office, up the stairs, behind the glass counter, the pencils arranged in a row, ROYGBIV, the colors of the rainbow. For a few pennies, add an extra fat eraser squeezed on top like a snug hat.

I want to sit and write and rewrite and never use up the extra eraser, with no regard for time, lost in the moment, lost on the page, lost between the lines in the story.

I don’t want to be timely.
I want to be timeless. Like the lyrics to a song. Always true.

Always.

Alive in a place alive with imagination and exuberance and endless notions. Made up words. Down the rabbit hole, in and out of weeks, and almost over a year.

To where the dandelions grow. Same as it ever was.

No clocks. No alarms. No reminders to go and do and think certain thoughts. A soft meadow to sink into, float above. A sky with no ceiling. Only blue.

Endless.

Timeless.
Same as it ever was.

Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

[tweetthis]I don’t want to be timely with my #writing. #amwriting[/tweetthis]

Musical Pairing:
Talking Heads, Once in a Lifetime

My love of writing (from an early age)

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Proof of my love for writing, from an early age.

Once there was a little girl who liked to write…

In case there was ever any doubt, I present proof of my love of writing. Proof from a very early age. Proof I found at home in Momma’s buffet. The bottom drawer is crammed with lots of linens and random treasures.Continue Reading

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!