IT'S THE WEEKEND

Happy 4th of July. Let's take a field trip!

ONE OF THE BEST REASONS

about living in the Texas Panhandle is the beautiful Palo Duro Canyon.


Palo Duro Canyon


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IN THE GARDEN WITH EUDORA

While I piddle with my plants, I think about other writers who spent time in the garden.

Eudora Welty shared the love of gardening with her mother. And the love spilled over into her work.



Bloom was everywhere in the streets, wisteria just ending, Confederate jasmine just beginning. And down in the gardens! — they were deep colored as old rugs in the morning and evening shade. Everybody grew some of the best of everybody else's flowers…

Eudora Welty

From her short story, Kin.



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WILL I WIN?

The summer giveaway is going strong at our local grocery store. For the last month whenever the cashier asks, "Are you playing our game?" I tell her, "Yes."

She hands me a card or two and I drop them into my purse.

Yesterday I asked the cashier, "Is anyone winning yet?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "Someone won the motorcycle yesterday. All the winners are listed on the wall."

That's all it took for me to hurry home and turn my purse upside down. I shook out three. There had to be more than that. I dug through the kitchen junk drawer and checked under books on my nightstand. Can you believe one was being used as a bookmark? Good grief. Opportunity tucked between pages.

I hounded Jerry and Shannon. Shannon handed me six. Had I sent her to the grocery store that many times?

Jerry shrugged and continued reading his book. "I don't have any."

"Are you certain? You sure go to the grocery store a lot."

"I'm not hiding them."

"Okay, I said, "but we're one ticket away from a year's worth of fuel prize."

"Really?"

This morning he found four tickets.

I know how to speak this man's language. You don't live with someone for twenty four years and not know what motivates a person.

It is 9:00 in the morning. I'm supposed to be checking some notes on a map for the historical novel. Instead I'm licking tiny little pieces of paper and fixing them on a game sheet.

But how can I stop? I am one ticket away from the fuel, an IPod, an Apple laptop, and two dollars cash. If only I had one more ticket.

I just remembered. I forgot to buy pine nuts and coffee.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO TIME TRAVEL WITH ME?

I'm reading the Best American Short Stories of the Century this summer. Want to join me?

The nice thing about short stories is you can slide a few in between your other reading. This anthology is a collection of stories from the Best American Short Stories series which began in 1915.

You don't have to read the stories in order. I usually don't when I'm reading an anthology. My usual ritual is to read the first sentence of each story and then choose where to begin. But this time, I've decided to start with the first story and work my way through to the last that was published in 1999.

If you decide to come along for the journey, don't skip the forward by Katrina Kenison and John Updike's introduction. Kenison tells the history of the series and includes an anecdote about the founder Edward J. O'Brien's meeting a young writer who was so distraught after losing a suitcase of manuscripts, he was considering quiting. O'Brien read the two stories that the young man still had. After O'Brien finished, he was so impressed he made an exception and included a never before published story in the series--Ernest Hemingway's "My Old Man."

I think short stories represent one of the best forms of literature. If you've never given them a chance as a reader, why not pick up a copy of the book and travel through the century with me? I guarantee you'll find a story that will stay with you through a lifetime.

DEADHEADING AND PINCHING BACK

Seems my morning rounds in the yard take longer and longer each day. Not because, I'm watering more, but because the plants are requiring a good pinching back and deadheading. Sometimes I am brutal, not even sparing a slightly faded bloom. Off with his head! I declare while I dig my fingernail into the stem. I know the payoff will be a fuller plant with more flowers.

Sometimes I have trouble sacrificing the blooms. Maybe later, I'll reason, maybe this is the best it will look. Isn't a little color from leggy stems better than nothing?

This dilemma extends beyond the garden. As far as first drafts go, I tend to underwrite. Rich details and developed characters require many drafts. Still there are eliminations to face, pinching back scenes and deadheading needless words. Those acts don't happen without a struggle. Maybe I fall in love with a sentence even though in my gut I know the line doesn't fit the story or character. This happened while writing When Zachary Beaver Came to Town. My editor pointed out a paragraph that she didn't think belonged. "The writing is lovely," she said, "but I just don't think Toby would say that."

I disagreed and decided against cutting it. This went on with each draft--Christy gently pleading for me to revisit the paragraph, me refusing to do surgery. Finally at the last step that I could make changes, she asked, "If you won't cut it, would you consider changing the words a bit so that they sound like something Toby would say?"

This time I reread the part with an open mind. She was right. I cut the sentences. The chapter was better because of it, and of course, ultimately so was the book.

Pruning plants brings forth a bountiful garden. Pruning our writing means reaping rewards, too.

IT'S THE WEEKEND

Let's twist!