Kaye George: The Story of One

Welcome today's guest, Kaye George. An Agatha nominated short story writer, Kaye is the author of CHOKE: An Imogene Duckworthy Mystery (Mainly Murder Press), as well as A PATCHWORK OF STORIES, a collection of her previously published stories, and THE BAVARIAN KRISP CAPER, available at Untreed Reads. FISH TALES: The Guppy Anthology contains her story, "The Truck Contest". She reviews for "Suspense Magazine", and writes for several newsletters and blogs. She, her husband, and a rescued feral cat named Agamemnon live together in Texas, near Austin. Visit Kaye at kayegeorge.com, travelswithkaye.blogspot.com, and allthingswriting.blogspot.com. 

Once upon a time there was one writer who liked to write short stories. She wanted to get one published. She wrote one. She sent it to one prestigious magazine. She got one rejection slip. She wrote another. She wrote many, but didn't get any published. Instead she had one drawer full of rejections slips.

Years went by. The she decided she wanted to get one novel published. So she wrote one. She sent it to one agent. She got one rejection slip. She wrote more novels and got more rejection slips. Eventually, she had one file drawer full of them.

Meanwhile, frustrated with the novels, she returned to writing short stories and got one published. She danced and shouted for joy. Then she got another one published. But she still wanted to get just one novel into print. She wrote more of them and collected more rejection slips.

Years went by. Then, one day, one publisher wanted to see her latest novel. She danced and shouted for joy. The publisher bought her novel and she now has one book for sale!

To stick with the theme, she decided on a one word title. (That's not really the reason, the title has nothing to do with this little piece, but it fits the theme, so I'm going with it.)

How about the song made popular by Three Dog Night, "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do"? That applies to writers, to a degree. A writer, unless doing a collaboration, writes alone. I consider writing one of the loneliest things I've ever done. Until I attend a conference and meet up with all the other writers (All the Lonely People?).

I'll stick one other reference in here. "One small step." We writers take things one step at a time. Writer, revise, edit, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, submit, resubmit, resubmit, etc. If we repeat the steps enough times (waaay more than one!), we might eventually have publishing success.

I hope you've enjoyed my little riff on the number one.

One Day

By Gigi

I'm a firm believer that the idea of "one day" is the enemy of today. You know: "One day I'll write a novel. One day I'll visit Paris." The problem with that thinking is that there's rarely a perfect time in life to do anything.

I'm all for carving out opportunities, regardless of how messy things get. I have very few regrets in life, but they all have to do with things I didn't do. Even when I've screwed up, I've found I'm better off for the experience. That's why in my Carpe Diem post last month, I fantasized about my many ideas for what to do with my part-time sabbatical that begins in August.

My wide-ranging ideas were far too ambitious to fit into one year of part-time work. But how on earth could I choose? I took a step back and looked at what I'd been doing since moving to the Bay Area. From 2002 to 2005, I was immersed in art and design. Since finishing my graphic design program in December of 2005, I've been enjoying my work as a designer for my day job, but I use my free time primarily for writing and a bit of photography. I haven't done my own creatively directed art in the past five years.

That's what I'm going to do with my year: My own art projects.

No freelance work for clients; no trying to break into the professional world of book cover design; no selling photos through istock or Etsy. In other words: Nothing having to do with the business side of art. I've already got the username TheGargoyleGirl on Etsy, so if my projects evolve in the future then that's great, but that's for another time. This year is for my own creative exploration. I'll see where it takes me.

Here's the plan:

1. Keep a sketchbook. My sketchbook from school turned into a writing notebook. I want it all, so this year I'm buying a graph paper notebook for both drawing and writing.

2. Design book covers for books I love. To figure out if this is something I'd truly like to pursue, I'm going to do my own creatively directed study. I'm combining this idea with my earlier overly-ambitious idea of reading the entire John Dickson Car canon. I'll read as many of his books as I realistically can, and I'll design book covers for my favorites.

3. Step away from the computer and design by hand. The computer enables the creation of what you envision, but it can also limit what you imagine in the first place. I set up an art table in the garage last weekend, just like I'd planned to do when we moved into the house in 2009. Two years late is better than never!

4. Take art classes. I love workshops to jumpstart my creativity. Just like writing prompts have kicked off every short story I've written, art classes serve the same purpose. I've already registered for a workshop at the Richmond Art Center.

The last items below are things I would have done even without a sabbatical, and they're things I'll still do this year:

5. Step up work on my Gargoyle Girl photography. I'm nearly done sorting through my digital files, which was the easy part. It's time to dig into my box of negatives.

6. Write an experimental novel during NaNoWriMo. I'm thinking of trying out the idea I had for a steampunk mystery featuring an alchemist and her pet gargoyle.

 I think my beloved typewriter laptop skin is a sign I should give my steampunk mystery a chance.

Thank you to everyone who weighed in both online and offline after my carpe diem post in which I contemplated what to pursue!

All Martha Needs Is One Mic

I'm not given to melancholy. The Pens have said that seeing me cry would be like seeing a unicorn.

I see a problem. I fix it. Unless my tears will drop to the ground and manifest a fairy godmother, then I don't bother crying.

But this week has been a tough one, and no, I didn't cry, but I did wallow in self-doubt and insecurity. I wondered what I do I really need to be happy?

I know what I want - I want what JK Rowling has - let's not sugar coat it. But what I need?

In a world where I already count more blessings than 99% of the world's population for having potable water, literacy, my own home, friends, health insurance, free speech, the right to vote, a job, and everything else which makes being a whiner simply inexcusable - do I really need anything?

Lo and behold, the exact week we feature the theme "One" - a song from my youth barreled back into my memory like a nicely wrapped gift from my subconscious to remind me how human I am, to remind me what it is about JK Rowling's success that really appeals to me.

I've always loved this song because it's an ode to minimalism, a cool, modern-day rehash of Thoreau, a reminder that amidst all the grenades life can throw us, we need one, simple thing.



All I need is one mic, one beat, one stage.

All I need is one cup, one page, and one pen.

All I need is one life, one try, one breath.
I'm one (wo)man.

All I need is one mic.. that's all I ever needed in this world, forget cash
All I need is one mic.. forget the cars, the jewelry
All I need is one mic.. to spread my voice to the whole world
(clean lyrics)

The Power of ONE

by Lisa Hughey

I’m going to talk about something near and dear to my heart today.

The power of ONE person...to make a difference. I’m a firm believer that every gesture, every action, every gift of our time and attention has an influence on the world.

We have a responsibility to our fellow humans, to our community, to the Universe to give our all. I think we can get caught up in our own lives and dramas and forget the world around us. It’s understandable, it’s human. I also think sometimes it’s easy to dismiss a small gesture because after all we aren’t Mother Theresa, dedicating our life to another’s cause, we’re just a poor schlub with a lot of problems and worries of our own.

But the reality is that there are many ways to make a tiny difference.

My daughter and I are involved in an organization that makes it easy for us to volunteer both our time and our money (what little we have :) ) to various causes. If you can find an organization that has meaning for you, then consider focusing your benevolent attention for one cause. But if that won’t work, you can still do plenty of small things on your own.

Below are a few quick and easy things that you can do with very little time or effort.

Consider cleaning out your closet and giving clothes you no longer wear to your local hospice, church, charity thrift shop. The clothes need to be clean with no rips, tears or stains. These organizations frequently support people right in your own neighborhood. My mother-in-law and my grandmother received hospice help in their states when I lived far away and was unable to be there. Now I donate my clothing and house goods to my local hospice knowing that I’m helping someone else’s family.

If your teenager is having a birthday party, encourage the guests to all bring a can or two of food for your local food bank. Usually if you coordinate with the food bank, you can get a donation container delivered and picked up to your location. Last year my daughter and her friend collected over 200 lbs of food for our local food bank. The number of people requesting aid from their local food banks is up incredibly in our current economic crisis and you might be surprised at some of the people who are asking for help.

Donate old books to your local library, or consider mailing them to libraries in areas struck by natural disasters. If you don’t want to part with your books, buy one book by a favorite author and send it to them. What power to give the gift of reading a beloved author to someone else.

Did you have to change the prescription on your glasses the last time you went to the eye doctor? Donate that old pair to either the Lions Club or Unite for Sight (they distribute glasses in 3rd world countries in areas where people normally don’t have access to or the ability to pay for eyeglasses). I know how good I feel every morning when I put on my glasses and can see. Imagine giving that gift to someone who has been living without ever being able to see properly.

If donations aren’t your thing, consider donating your time to a fundraiser or event. There are so many events that rely on volunteers in order to happen.

If you can, choose an organization that has meaning for you. Go to their website and find out how to become a volunteer. Some to consider: Challenger Baseball, Special Olympics, Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure, American Cancer Society Relay for Life, Concours d’Elegance (for this particular event the recipient of the charitable proceeds varies by location).

The amount of satisfaction that you will get from a few hours worth of time is immeasurable. Especially when you consider that one simple gesture can make a change for the positive in a stranger’s life.


Embrace the power of ONE!!!

Lisa

One Way or Another

L.G.C. Smith

That’s an old Blondie song. Kind of stalkery. Full of attitude. Back when Blondie was new, stalking wasn’t much of an issue yet. Lots of people I knew spent large portions of their adolescence driving by the houses of people they had crushes on. I never did that myself. Of course not. Because I am perfect. I know the one true and right way to do…well, everything.

Yep. One best way. I really thought there was such a thing. Sometimes I still kind of wish there was. It would make a writing career easier. Follow steps 1-17, and presto! Instant bestsellerdom. But I’m coming around to the notion that it’s okay not to be able to master, or even identify the One True or Best Way for everything.

In honor of summer finally arriving in Northern California, and with it the first pick of Gold Dust Peaches at my sister’s Frog Hollow Farm, and in memory of my youthful devotion to finding the One Best Way to do…well, everything… here are two ways to make Peach Salsa: The one best way, and another one that works and is a lot less persnickety.


The One Best Way to Make Gold Dust Peach Salsa

This salsa tastes best with the Gold Dust variety of peach. They ripen around the middle of June, and the last ones come in around the 4th of July. Use tree-ripened fruit. Those hard green or mealy things found in so many supermarkets aren’t worth the trouble.
Makes about 8 cups

3 cups peeled Gold Dust peaches cut into ¼-inch dice
2 limes, juiced
1 cup diced white or red onion, 1/8-inch cubes
1 cup raw, peeled and diced jicama, 1/8-inch cubes
1 large poblano pepper, roasted, peeled, seeded and diced into 1/8-inch cubes
1 large red pepper, roasted, peeled, seeded and diced into 1/8-inch cubes
2 mild peppers, such as Anaheims, roasted, peeled, seeded and diced into 1/8-inch cubes
1/3 cup of Serrano pepper, roasted, peeled, seeded and diced into 1/8-inch cubes
2 large cloves of garlic, finely minced
1 Tablespoon finely minced fresh Italian parsley
1 Tablespoon finely minced fresh cilantro leaves
1 Tablespoon finely minced fresh green onion tops
1 Tablespoon green onion bottoms, very finely sliced
1-2 teaspoons kosher salt (to taste)
½ teaspoon fresh cracked black pepper
optional: 1 finely diced fresh Serrano chili pepper, or even a habanero, if you want more heat

Before you start, roast all the peppers on a grill, preferably over apple or cherrywood coals, until the skins char and blister all over. Put them in a bowl and cover them with a kitchen towel so that they’ll steam a bit. You can do this a day ahead. When they’re cool, peel, seed, and cut the flesh into 1/8-inch dice.

Juice the limes and put the juice in a large bowl. If the limes are on the dry side, use more. If you like lots of lime, add more.

Peel the ripe peaches, which should be soft, with a paring knife. Don’t do that thing with dropping them into boiling water for a few seconds. If they’re truly ripe, you can peel them easily without that, and you don’t want them heated at all. It diminishes the fragrance and flavor. Remove the pit, slice, and then dice into ¼-inch cubes. Put the peaches (and as much of the juice as you can capture) in the lime juice as soon as they’re cut. This will keep them from turning brown.

Peel the onion and cut into 1/8-inch dice. Place the dice in a fine mesh strainer and pour boiling water over the onions for 30 seconds to a minute. Drain well. Spread out on paper towel and let cool. Blot out any extra water. Add to the peaches and lime juice.

Add all the rest of the ingredients and mix thoroughly without mashing the peaches. Adjust seasoning to taste. Serve at room temperature with chips or on burgers. Leftovers will keep in a tightly covered jar in the refrigerator for three or four days.


Another Way: Everyday Peach Salsa

Scrounge whatever ripe peaches can be found. Any variety. Over-ripe. Bruised. Farmers’ market rejects. Whatever. They just have to be ripe. Use four. Maybe five. Or six. Depends on the size and how many you have. Grab a couple of meyer lemons off the tree, or limes, if there are any kicking around. Wash and juice lemons or limes. Wash, peel and cut off bruises from the peaches, and dice them up small. Toss them in the citrus juice. If you don’t have enough citrus, use rice vinegar. Or sherry vinegar. Or champagne vinegar. Not balsamic as the color will stain the peaches, but otherwise, whatever you have in the acid department will work. Wash and dice a raw, unpeeled red pepper, or a poblano, or both. Add a hot pepper if you like that. A little chopped parsley, chopped cilantro, minced garlic, fresh cracked black pepper and kosher salt. Onion if you feel like it. Raw, blanched, any color, doesn’t matter. Jicama if you have it. No worries if you don’t. It’s still good.

There Can Be Only...Ah Forget It

A couple of years ago when the eight of us were coming up with the idea for this blog, one of the first things we agreed upon was that there would be no hard and fast rules. What ever you wanted to put up, you could put up. If something was weighing on your mind and it didn't happen to fit neatly into that week's topic, go right ahead. Or let's say 12 am on your scheduled day rolled and you were too exhausted by work and family obligations to muster up a post that was as witty and charming and insightful as you've come expect from the Pens Fatales brand, well, then you could take a pass.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is that post.

So instead allow me to offer you this entertaining clip from the guys at RiffTrax (or the old Mystery Science Theater guys, as I will always think of them) as they tear apart The Highlander.

There Can Be Only One!

See, I knew I could shoehorn the topic in there somehow.

In Defense of Single-Tasking

By Juliet

Do you all remember this scene, from the famous Zen-inspired film, City Slickers?



Curly: Do you know what the secret of life is?


Mitch: No, what?


Curly: This. [holds up one finger]


Mitch: Your finger?

Curly: One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and everything else don't mean shit.

Mitch: But what is the "one thing"?

Curly: [smiles] That's what you've got to figure out.


I found it out: I quit multi-tasking.

Well, that’s an exaggeration. I’m working on quitting multi-tasking. But I keep getting distracted.

And I'm not trying to single-task in every aspect of my life – after all, it’s wonderful to chat with friends while cooking, or listen to the news or books on tape while washing dishes. I’m a whiz at combining dreaded household chores and I can get a heck of a lot of paperwork done while watching an old movie.

But the other day I was speaking to a friend on the phone and I caught myself checking email at the same time. I cannot listen to someone while I'm reading. I lost part of what she was saying... and she was saying important things.

When I was a kid phones were plugged into the wall and you had to sit your butt down and really give the person on the other end of the line your full attention. I know that such nostalgic reminiscences are silly, and I’m not saying I never water the plants or hang laundry on the line while speaking on the phone -- but there’s a lesson in there somewhere. What my friend was saying deserved my attention, my focus, my single-mind.

We're all forced to juggle in this modern life, but very once in a while we might want to hold on to a single ball.

And hold that ball with a lot of style, needless to say.

This is certainly true for writing. Do one thing, the most important thing: WRITE.

Don't talk to anybody. Log off of Facebook. Turn off the phone. For the love of all that is holy, do NOT check email. Focus on your writing, be one with your writing. Single-task for some period of time, even if it's only ten minutes. There’s a beauty to single-mindedness: You get shit done, and done well.
At its core, Curly's Law is about choosing. Choosing to do Just One Thing means you won't be doing lots of other things. Making choices is difficult in our lives, and no less so in our writing. In fact, choosing what to focus on -- line-by-line, scene-by-scene, chapter-by-chapter-- is arguably one of the most difficult skills to hone as a writer.

In fact, a lot of well-known authors suffer from their own success in this regard: they are no longer edited with fervor, and their work suffers because of it. They aren’t forced to make hard choices. (So when I'm wildly successful you'll all remind me that I love to get edited, right?)

Just do one thing, and at the risk of sounding very…Berkeley…be fully present. Be mindful. Full of mind. (See? Very Zen indeed.)

Rachael's One

One is the first, and therefore, automatically, it's the most exciting.

1. My first kiss. Mine was while sitting on a floor of a Bakersfield family room. I'd travelled from the coast by Greyhound (I was sixteen! What was my mother thinking?) to visit a young man of whom I'd become enamored while, yes, at Bible camp (um, maybe that's what my mother was thinking). I'd just turned sixteen, and I was terrified I'd remain Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Kissed until I was seventeen, with no way to go back in time to fix it, a perpetual John Hughes joke. I can't remember the boy's name (isn't that awful?) but he was 6'6" and very blond. I had to crane my neck when I imagined kissing him. That night, we sat on the floor across from each other (probably because we'd thought we be able to reach each other's lips), and I remember scooting closer and closer, until our mouths finally met. And I thought, Wow. Is this all there is?

2. My first boombox. We lived overseas on the tiny island of Saipan (random fact: I'm one of three Pens who've been there!) when I was a teenager, and I wanted one thing more than anything else in my life--a boombox so I could play the bootleg tapes we bought at the Chinese store in Garapan. I had a whole collection: Tears for Fears, Madonna, A-ha! But I didn't have anything to play them on except my best friend Tammy's boombox, and I dreamed of the time I could have my very own. After I saved up the money and ordered one from the mainland, I drew a picture of the exact boombox I'd ordered to scale and set the drawing next to my bed to pass the two months I waited for it to arrive. The songs I imagined it playing were better than any of the actual songs I ended up using it for.

3. My first apartment. It was tiny, barely 300 square feet, $350 a month. I had one fire, many gas leaks, marching tarantulas, and creeping mold, but I loved that place. Everything in the fridge was mine. It was built hanging off the back of a garage, completely illegal, and the teeny bedroom was on stilts, but I loved the forest of eucalyptus that grew on all three side of the room. I felt as if I lived in a tree house. But I outgrew it, even though I didn't want to, and moved to a larger place in a better location. Le sigh.

4. My first book. That was the best. Nothing took away from it. Nothing detracted from seeing that ARC for the first time. This was one of the best moments of my life.



Firsts are great. But I will propose this: after one, I quite like two and three. And four and five and eleven and 127 and 1252. They aren't like the first one. The other night I came home from work to find my third book's early copies had arrived. I didn't wait for Lala to get home, I just let the dogs out, fed the cats, and opened the package. Then I set a copy on the dining room table for her to see when she got home.

It was not as exciting as the first one. But the joy of accomplishment (it isn't a fluke!) might be even deeper.

I've gotten better at kissing, too.