What the New Year might bring

When I was younger I made resolutions. They were always sort of silly, though I didn't think so at the time. Mostly stuff anyone ought to do as a matter of course. Lose twenty pounds, stop fighting with my little brother, be nicer to my friends. Like that. I've come to believe as I grow older that perhaps we ought to set some goals for ourselves each new year and consider them fulfilled if we managed to attain one or two. And forget those resolutions we're only going to break before January is gone.

I'm a list maker and a bit obsessive compulsive about my life. I want to know what I'll do each day, hate it when someone calls and asks me to do something that isn't in my plans for the day or week. So with that in mind, my goals for the new year will go on a list. It's a given that the more we expect of ourselves, the more we'll accomplish. And even if we don't check them all off at the end of the year, perhaps we'll fulfill more of our wishes than if we just trailed along doing whatever comes up.

Obviously, we're not all alike, so this method will not suit everyone. First organize each day of the week. Then make room for extra tasks. As writers we know we must first and foremost WRITE every day. I do take Sunday off to loaf, watch movies or visit with family or play in the yard. Whatever suits my fancy.

As anyone of you who keeps up with my blog, you see that this is my first entry since Dec. 8, more than 20 days ago, so obviously I found something else to do on those Monday's when my calendar says Promo; Blogs; Etc. Written there the past few weeks in red was prepare for the holidays. On Tuesday the calendar tells me to write my column and once a month an additional column. Then the remainder of the work week is for WIP. For those of you who haven't been in this business very long, that means Work In Progress.

Beginning January 1, I'll be back on that schedule. Since Christmas I've been recovering from the holiday. Spouse and I don't do much for New Year's anymore, just fall asleep in front of the TV waiting for the ball to drop on Times Square, then trail off to bed murmuring Happy New Year to one another.

Thankfully, the coming year should prove to be exciting, for I'm working on two books that are contracted. There'll be much research, much local traveling and interviewing, picture taking and the gathering of information in general, as well as putting the books together. I'm grateful to have this opportunity with the book business in such disarray. A third contract looks to be in the offing for a book not due for a while. All of these with small publishers.

I can't urge you enough to pitch your ideas to these people who aim their books at specific audiences, especially while the New York fiction markets are floundering about.

I live in the Boston Mountains of the Ozarks. For 20 years I've interviewed and written about people whose families have lived here for generations. Their history is unique and heart warming, and their stories extremely poignant, humorous and filled with adventure. To my delight, things that happen in the Ozarks are extremely popular. One publisher told me, "Put Ozarks in the title and it'll sell." Who knows what causes these shifts in popularity.

The two books I'm currently writing have Ozarks in the title. One is about the lost communities of the area, how the people lived, loved, played and worshiped; the other is a book of recipes from the Boston Mountains, some stories, the history of the food culture, and pictures. They're a perfect match for each other, in that I can probably gather information and write them at the same time.

If you have an expertise there are probably some small publishers out there just waiting for your pitch. Oh, yes, I know. Fiction is so much fun to write. I agree, and I have a lot of fiction floating around out there, looking for a home. But nonfiction is where the sales are at, so you might as well get in on it. What do you do? How do you do it? Wouldn't someone like to know the answer to those questions? Check it out. Make some goals, lists, or whatever it takes to make this new year one of your best yet. And if you don't do anything else in the coming year, Network. That's where you'll learn what's hot and what's not.

Happy New Year to you and yours.

Christmas and Critique Groups

Addressing Christmas cards yesterday served to remind me how little time is left until that joyous holiday rolls around. Watching grandkids decorate their Mom and Dad's tree with the help of our little Aidan, who will be three in March, reminded me of how blessed I am, despite the hardships facing this country in the coming months. The best thing most of us can do is to continue to have a positive attitude, do all we can to help some of those not so blessed and pray for better times.

Besides my family, I am also thankful for all the writer friends I have made over the many years I've been in this business. And every year I make some new friends.

Our critique group, which has been in the business of mentoring new writers for 23 years and counting, continues to amaze me with its ability to support those struggling to learn their craft and get published. Each and every one then passes on what they have learned. The most important thing we are able to teach is to be generous with time and knowledge and help others as we have been helped.

The secret of a good critique group is to remember what we're there for. To help, to teach, to give and most of all to keep the flame burning. To critique is not to criticize but to uplift with suggestions and praise, to help not hinder the advance of their talent. On the other side, we do writers no good when we tell them how wonderful they are without pointing out what might be a weakness in their writing.

Our group has no by-laws, no officers, no fees. We only insist that everyone follow the few basic rules of conduct set down by its leaders: the two of us who have survived for the full 23 years. Any writer serious about his or her craft may attend our meetings. When and if they feel comfortable reading, they bring five double-spaced pages of their best work, with copies to pass out. Sometimes we have three or four who wish to read, other times there are ten or more. We do the best we can to get them all in and still give honest critiques. It's only when we have problems that we address them.

Over the years we've met in all kinds of places. Banks, offices, churches, private homes, a community organization, and now in a historical museum. Because we charge no fees, we have to find free meeting rooms. Since we meet one night a week, it's more difficult to find a home, but we've always managed.

There are 31 members on our list, but usually only half or less attend each week. We do not advertise as we once did. That attracts some strange characters. Our information is at the local libraries if anyone asks, otherwise we seem to survive and keep fresh membership by word of mouth. There are always some people who say they want to be writers until they find out how much work it is; others move or decide a critique group is not for them, so we have some turnover.

If you don't belong to a group and wish you did, why not start one? The library or other writer's groups are good places to leave information about your group. If anyone would like more information on starting a critique group, let me know. I'll be glad to help.

How They Lived

A typical Ozark home and family of the early 1800s

The deeper I get into the new book, the more I search for stories to use, the more amazed I am at how settlers to these rugged Boston Mountains of the Ozarks survived. They were so innovative in making do with what was available. The huge trees were used to build their homes, their barns and schools and businesses. Flowing waters powered mills to grind the grain they grew into flour and meal. Wild berries and roots and plants fed them and doctored them.

When the first white men arrived in the Bostons he came as the Osage then the Cherokee were forcibly removed into Indian Territory to the west. Imagine arriving in this rugged mountain wilderness by wagon train, on foot or horseback, to find no voices of man, woman or child. Only the mournful calls of whippoorwill and solemn owls, the chatter of the crow and playful squirrel, the scree of soaring red hawks whose flight darts shadows across the empty land. Alone with black bears, cougars and wolves; asleep at night in the company of the nocturnal beasts of the forest and sky; the bats, the ‘possum and the odorous skunk. Into just such a frontier ventured the heroic Ozark pioneer. During the nineteenth century westward bound families crossed the Mississippi headed for the great plains in huge covered wagons, some the giant Conestoga, but most the smaller versions neither so heavy nor so bunglesome. Even others with farm wagons and carts pulled by oxen.

This is an excerpt from the forward of the book, but the stories it tells begin with the individuals, those brave pioneers looking for a new life, land of their own. People who had sharecropped on land they could never own, nor could they live off the fruits of their own labor. Then they heard that Arkansas Territory had land they could call their own.

As I wander these Ozarks locating these long gone settlements, taking pictures, talking to those whose grand and great-grand parents homesteaded this land, I can't help but stand in awe of their courage.

By 1828 they were pouring into the Boston's, following old Indian trails and military trails, then hacking their way with axe and handsaw through thick growths of oak and maple, chinquapin so huge it took two or three men linking hands to span their trunks. Brambles so thick they tangled around the hooves of the oxen and mules and horses.

I will live with these people for the next few months as I put this book together, and I look forward to doing so. Perhaps it will teach me that possessions are not nearly so important as are family, friends and neighbors. For these people had so little, yet they stood against tribulations we cannot imagine, and they did it together. They did it with humor and strength and vision and faith. So that is what the book is really about.

As soon as I have a title, I'll post it, and keep everyone up to date on how it's going. Right now I'm calling it Lost In The Bostons, for want of a better working title.

PS Take a look at these sites. They are newspaper articles of interviews with my protagonist in Fly With The Mourning Dove, Edna Hiller. She's a great gal and, at the age of 94, has some terrific insights.
http://www.tinyurl.com/5jyfhe http://www.tinyurl.com/6jkask