Holy Cow!

Remember the Pet-A-Scopes humor column I've been asked to write for a veterinarian's magazine? I spoke to the magazine editor today who said she'd like to bring me out to Portland, Oregon for a week to meet with her, tour the campus and interact with some vets. 

Wha--??? You could have knocked me over with a feather.  Magazines are notoriously tight on budgets.  They don't like to pay authors let alone fly them out for a visit.  I'm psyched--I've never been to Portland. And this training compound sounds incredible. I just love this about life--you never, ever know where it's going to take you.  One minute I'm heating up a sweet potato in the microwave (which is beeping at me to let me know it's done) and the next minute I'm penciling in "Portland" on my daytimer. 

It's freaking me out a little bit, like I better step up my game.  I wasn't at all nervous about writing this column before but now I feel a bit intimidated--like they'll be thinking, "Hey!  We spent all this money on this woman and this drivel is what she gives us?  Off with her head!"

Luckily I work well under pressure.  Bring on the guillotine.

Wildacres Residency

I received some good news I've been hoping for.  I was awarded one of the 25 slots for the Wildacres Residency Program. Wildacres is a 1600-acres compound near the Blue Ridge Parkway that hosts different groups throughout the year for creativity (writers workshops, pottery/painting seminars) and business retreats. They also have a small cabin (see photo) on the compound that they award free one-week residencies to writers, artists, and musicians. The cabin has no phone, radio, TV or alarm clock, but does have wood burning indoor and outdoor fireplaces and its own tiny kitchen (meals are served at the main lodge). There is also (gulp) no Internet access except at two public telephones where you can connect your laptop.

The point of the residency is to focus exclusively on your project with no distractions.  No spouses, friends, pets are allowed. The artist in residence is allowed to join group activities scheduled at the main lodge, however.

I've tentatively been assigned a week in September.  I was a little disappointed, as I was hoping to go earlier, but the more I think about it the better I like the time frame. We leave in May for England/Scotland and I'll need most of June to catch up on assignments and get back on track.  The cabin isn't air-conditioned so I have no desire to visit in July or August so there you have it: September will be here before I know it. 

There is an immense appeal in going away to write.  No distractions, no "have to's," no "when I can find the time." When I mentioned last month to Blair I was applying his response was if that's what I wanted why didn't I just take a week or a month or whatever and go to a hotel or B&B somewhere and write?

Logical question that I don't have a logical answer for.  My answer is because. Because if I went to a hotel, every day I'm thinking that my being there is costing money--room, meals, etc. And it seems so self-indulgent--being able to work from home isn't enough, now I have to have turn-down service too?

But being given a free week of board with free meals and being acknowledged as a writer having earned my place there feels different.  I recognize it's all mental, but I just feel like I'll put more into this residency than I would if I just went and stayed at a random hotel for a week.

I want it to be a week of discovery. Will I stay up and write late into the night since I won't have to be up early for yoga or networking sessions? Will I spend my time in the cabin or seek the company of others at the lodge? Will I write longhand or shorthand? How many hours a day will I spend writing? How many hours a day can I spend writing? At home, there's always a phone call or an errand or an assignment or dinner or something that comes along to chop up the day.  Here, it will be my time to do with whatever I please. 

Fingers crossed I don't blow it.  That would be depressing to go and waste a week and be bored.  I don't think that will happen though.  I'm too anal-retentive to allow it.  However, I am taking NOTHING up there except my Millicent story.  No other projects, no itty-bitty assignments, no columns or query letters to be worked on.  The only "to do" is to work on my novel.

I can't wait.

"I Was Howling..."

I received a wonderful compliment. Yesterday  I stopped by the trendy little boutique in GSO called Rag Poets. I'd dropped my book off there two weeks ago and was following up to see if they want to carry it or not. The owner wasn't there, but the woman I had left the book with was there as was another sales woman. When the second woman found out I was the author of the book, her eyes lit up.

"Oh my Gawd," she said in a southern accent. "I sat right down in that chair and read your book and I was howling."  She gave me a measured look. "And I'm a harsh critic." The younger sales girl nodded. They went on to say they'd had "story time," during a slow period in the store and took turns reading my stories out loud to one another.  The harsh critic woman also mentioned she didn't even have cats, but found the stories applicable to anyone who had pets.

Naturally, I was floating on air when I left. There is no feeling like knowing your words made someone laugh out loud. I think what I experience with writing must be like a mini-dose of what stand-up comics experience on stage. There's a feeling of power that comes with making people laugh. It's exhilarating.

But life is not all wines and roses.  I popped in on another store where I'd left my book and really stuck my foot in my mouth.  I had called the store the day before and the woman didn't know who I was or anything about my book. (I had left the book with a college student working the counter who promised to get it to the owner).  She said she'd look around for it.  Since I was in the area yesterday, I thought why not just stop in and see if she's found it and, if not, drop off a new copy.

So I go in and a sales clerk takes me to the manager and I say, "Hi, I'm Dena Harris.  We spoke yesterday on the phone. I'm the one with the book that didn't ring a bell and you had no memory of."  I grinned, to show I could take a joke at my own expense--that my book was so easily forgettable.

Instead, looking embarrassed, the woman said, "I apologize. I've had almost no short-term  memory since my cancer treatments last year."

Sinkhole, God. Please. Swallow me now.

There really isn't a graceful way out of that situation.  Feeling like a complete loser, I apologized for my comment, mumbled something about her looking at the book I'd brought her and I'd be in touch, and I fled the store.

I don't know about you, but I'm thinking "no sale." Will I ever learn??

My Speech: A Qualified Success

I had early inklings my speech today would not go as planned. First was the fact I couldn't seem to memorize it.  Let me clarify that I never memorize a speech word for word. But I always know where I'm heading and one sentence always flows logically to the next for me.  But practicing this speech, I couldn't keep my transitions straight.  Plus, I switched to a new ending this morning and was trying to make sure I remembered how to segue into that.

So I give my speech and almost from the word go, I blow it. Blow it as in I wasn't delivering the speech I had prepared.  I was delivering the lines, but the order was all wrong.  I was thinking ahead, trying to remember what came next instead of paying attention to what I was saying. Then I got to a place and did something I have never done before in a speech...I blanked.  

That's right.  Just a vast whiteness inside my mind.  It wasn't so much I couldn't remember the words as it was I had messed myself up by going out of order with my thoughts.  So when I got to near the end of speech--ha ha--I had already delivered that section. What to do? My mind went blank.

I did exactly what I teach my public speaking students to do...I turned around and calmly walked back to the podium, glanced at my notes to get a bearing, then continued. (Thank God I had my notes.  I haven't brought notes to the podium for a speech in over two years. But a little voice inside me whispered "just in case."  Hooray for tiny little voices. And hooray for me for listening to it).

Overall, the pause wasn't tragic.  It was still a decent speech. And oddly, I find myself almost elated.  I'm thrilled I could mess up that bad and still pull off that good a speech.  If I had panicked, it could have been a disaster. So that Toastmaster's training has paid off. It's like I tell my students--you'll know you messed up or skipped a major section, but your audience doesn't know what you have planned and they'll never know the difference. 

I got good feedback and advice from the group for the next contest, which is March 28th. "More emotion" is what I was told. (Ha.  Vulcans don't do emotion).  I feel better about my speech content and topic, which I was doubting.  Everyone agreed it was a good match for the contest. Now I just need to restructure my speech so that it flows for me and is easier to remember.

I'm just so pleased.  Normally I'd be gnashing my teeth and mentally berating myself for the goof, but I feel good about the experience.   Toastmasters--I strongly recommend the group to anyone who thinks they can't do public speaking.