RIP Maya Angelou

I finished typing my first story collection Rosebud this morning.

I fixed my Goodreads Author’s Page.

Then I logged onto FB to veg for a bit…and found out that Maya Angelou died.  So many Black women writers of my generation couldn’t believe how brave she was actually committing to ink what she thought and felt whether or not it was popular or acceptable.  She made me feel a little less weird and alone in this world.   Thank you, Miss Maya.  You made my life better!

Now, in the spirit of keepin’ on, I’m going to start typing my next novella, Ramshackled.

 

 

 

 

 

Feb. 15, 2014

I forgot my Feb. post.  What’s to say?  The pinched nerve in my back recovery and the chronic neck strains are better than one might expect in winter, so maybe I can get back to semi-regular walking (still dodging snowstorms here in New England :-) ).  At least I’ve gotten in some typing, edits on the memoir -so it might be done in March.  In general I have problems if I sit at a table instead of lying on 4 pillows to type.  Typing lying down doesn’t work!  Frustrating as heck.

SILVER LINING???

1.  Somehow I’ve managed to squeeze out two of my goal three books so I can publish in 3 genres in 12 months to celebrate the big 5-0!   Instead of re-posting everything, here it is on HCP:  http://hiddencharmpress.com/

2.  I have a feature of the poetry on March 10, 2014. 8-10pm Stone Soup.  $5 cover.  My book will be $10 (if I have any left by 9pm, usual feature time).  And I’m doing a radio show in spring.  Perhaps the memoir will be out then too.

I’m feeling pretty good about 2013, my year of prose and transitioning to more Publishing, behind-the-scenes work.  But I’m psyched to read.  I haven’t read at all since August, haven’t featured since May?  June?

November 3, 2013: The State of Words Address

There isn’t much to report in the bookmaking world.   It’s no secret that a lot of small-press publishers have taken a beating in this economy.  But, more disturbing, is how crabby and nasty some writers have gotten.  We’re all poor, but some folks are more bitter about it.  No small victory goes unpunished.  So, here’s to writers, editors, publishers, book designers, et al. who are making it work somehow.  Scale back where you must, but keep going!

This is actually the bad news section of my post.  I started Hidden Charm Press in 2011 with hopes of pumping out 2-3 books per year.  So far, Extra MoJo! (Feb. 2013) stands alone.   I’m determined to publish my memoir 2013-2014, but I’ve given up hope of having a poetry chapbook contest this year.  My goal is to keep the fee low yet be able to offer a cash prize as well as publication.  Perhaps next year.

For a variety of reasons, my poetry has ground to a halt.  I chose to focus on my neglected genre, fiction, this year and will be self-publishing my first novella within months via Tell-Tale Chapbooks (TTC).  Of course, sacrifices had to be made – the biggest being the online journal U.M.Ph.! Prose; it will become an anthology via TTC (in collaboration with Stone Soup Poetry host Chad Parenteau) … hopefully next year.  So I’ve produced two decent poems this year.  It’s been a lonely summer without poetry, not something I can explain unless you’re a poet too :-) .

Now for the good news.  This month, as I enthusiastically await the publication of my second book of poems What Goods a View of the Charles…? (ALL CAPS PUBLISHING), I’m also trying to prime the pump and get into poetry writing for the winter by writing 14 poems in November.  A lot of people are writing 30.  Hurrah to them, but not my goal!  My point here is simple.  We’re all struggling; we’re all discouraged.  But we who are lucky enough to have words are holding onto them.  We’re doing what we can, no matte rhow small or large, to keep the written word relevant, important.  We need words…and they need to be written…and a lot of people are still comforted by reading them.

 

September 3, 2013

Autumn at last!  My second book of poems is close to publication by ALL CAPS Publishing even as I remain faithful to my year of prose-writing commitment.

The cover for my first novella is in second-draft phase; typing is slow but sure for the microfiction collection.  So I will have to wrestle with templates to get the Tell-Tale Chapbooks self-pubs done this year.  That’s okay, there are 4 months left in the year :-)

Finances being what they aren’t, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that my memoir will not be out this year.  Okay…breathe.  There, I said it, and the floor didn’t crumble.  Life goes on.

Photos and links when works are published.  Sleep for now.

Spring Gleaning

Having the attention span of a gnat in recent months, I haven’t read much.  But it’s Spring, so I’m attempting to de-clutter my brain as well as clean my room, maybe squeeze in some words…in baby steps.

So I’m grazing among 6 collections of short fiction, trying to read a story a day.  I’m slightly stuck on ZZ Packer, reading a third in a row <a href=”View” _mce_href=”http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/2641579-mignon-ariel-king”>View”>http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/2641579-mignon-ariel-king”>View all my reviews</a>

September Writing

I managed to send off the mss. of faction A Concrete Wish — an urban fable last month, then got slammed with a minor but voice-scraping bug.  Let’s see if I can finish the mss. of memoir edits by the 15th…while pounding the pavement looking for academic jobs that crop up at the last minute, finishing a proof job and looking for more, going to the dentist, posting the next issue of U.M.Ph.! Prose….  Can we say STRESS, boys and girls?

Say, maybe updating the Online Lit. of Note page will be relaxing.  It sure beats trying to concentrate when the sun is up.  I need a job; seriously, I get zero writing done during the day.  Employers, do you here that!  Former English teacher with obsessive organizing skills and ability to ignore everyone while slaving away 7 hours per day seeks income-bearing work.

Say, I feel much better now.  The power of writing, baby!

faction is fiction, so obviously based on a real person’s former or coulda-been life that it’d be dumb to play that coy writer’s it ain’t about me game.