working it out

over the past few days i have been reworking an old story of mine. it is still not quite right, but getting closer. and for me - an author who spills forth short stories in a shellean-visitation, fully-formed sort of way - the reworking is a strange, frustrating, thrilling sort of mystery. i am not sure how it is that a story gets better - do i understand it more? see it better? probably. but here i am after 2 days of intense work with a story that is more itself. that is a mystery. a wonderful one.

goodreads

so i just put myself on goodreads as one of their authors and it is kind of fun.  i have started a list of some of my favorite books and offered up what i am reading now.  i dont suppose i am terribly sophisticated in that regard because i love to read the same old books over and over again.  currently i am reading steinbeck's of mice and men as well as flannery o'conner's mystery and manners.  anyway, if you follow my blog here, consider coming over to goodreads and join in either one of the discussions i have created.  one is called "the art of story" (familiar name eh?) and the other is just a "Q&A with stacy barton" about my short story collection surviving nashville.

see you there!

In the Holl’r

Ripe tomatoes and pinto beans,
Brown bread and cake,
Six kids with darned socks,
Revival meetings and penny nails.

Log houses and porch stoops,
Summer dates and lamplight,
Church camp and leeches,
Caught at the swimming hole.

Four-part harmony
Standing by the piano,
Dresses on the banister,
The boys got the bikes.

Running in the holl’r,
Sliding in the mud,
Laughing at the table,
Home sweet home.

the circus

the deal has been made, the contract signed...i'm going to write/develop the new ringling brothers show!

i am so excited, what a fun opportunity! talk about the art of story...i really believe that i can bring my storytelling ability to their thrilling show to create an even greater experience. it must be a simple story hook, of course, it is the circus and the acts must strut their stuff, but to create the gift of story that connects each piece into a whole...is thrilling to me!

...off to coney island next weekend to see the current show!

Voices

Sounds, like
ideas, reach me
slowly through the timber
of shut doors.

Muffled wisdom,
like the voices of my children
heard through window glass,
reaches

my mind. My mind,

accustomed as it is
to voices,
employs the same tactic.

And so it is that the voices
in my head
become real,

like

laughter
on the pool deck.

catch-up

1: school is out
2. graduation is over
3. todd is master fixer-upper of all the house projectsfor the summer
4. i am going to be writing/developing the new ringling brothers circus!
5: we just sent our second daughter off to tampa for a 2-week intensive/audition for the second company at orlando ballet
6. our eldest daughter is spending the weekend working as nick arrojo's assistant (big famous hair dude)
7. our son just started varsity summer ball (baseball that is)
8. so far our youngest one has the best social calendar of summer break
9. todd and i leave for LA in 2 days!
10. did i mention i get to create a circus?

darkest before dawn...so they say

it is so early and so quiet that it is still dark outside. the birds have not even begun to chatter. i am awake. i am worrying. i am afraid. of what? of doing the wrong thing, making the wrong choice, saying too much, not enough. i am afraid of screwing up.

looks silly in writing doesnt it? but i am gripped with fear over my own possible mistakes. and once it starts, this line of thinking is never-ending. maybe i am screwing up everywhere. maybe all i make are mistakes. maybe...

i hear a bird. a loud one. he is chirping away. i look up and see a small stream of light making a go of the morning. that bird is still chirping, calling the morning awake. he does not sound afraid. he sounds bold and brash. he is singing now. i do not think he is afraid of doing it right.

i love that little bird, and i dont even know what kind he is.

perhaps i will sing - loud and long and strong - sing without knowing what the day will bring, just sing because i can, because i am. perhaps.

it is morning now.