Always Check Your Spelling, Especially Proper Names! by Annette Langer

My first name is not an especially difficult one to spell, or so I thought. It’s just one “A,” two “N”s, and two “E”s separated by two “T”s. Easy-peasy, right? But believe me, it’s been misspelled as Anita, Antoinette, Antonia, Annetta, and even Arlene. I found out when traveling to Egypt that the hieroglyphic equivalent of my name translates simply to the phonetic “Anet.” Certainly the ancient Egyptians can be forgiven for dropping a vowel or couple of consonants here and there. After all, they built the Pyramids with manual labor, and losing extra baggage along the way easily can be understood.

Perhaps the most blatant misspelling of my name, however, came in the form of a valentine I received from a boy in grade school. It was addressed in a childish scrawl to “Dear Antenna.” While this faux pas occurred more than fifty years ago, I still remember it, and so may your readers.

The lesson to be learned here is this: If something is important enough to send/submit/hope-to-be-published, double-check your facts and triple-check your spelling. That’s why staffers’ names are listed in a newspaper or magazine’s masthead. A prospective editor or publisher may just assume your work contains other inaccuracies if you didn’t take the time to verify the spelling of the recipient’s name. It could mean the difference between getting your piece considered for publication and losing the chance entirely.

Happy Valentine’s Day, all the same!

Annette (Antenna) Langer

Karen Joy Fowler at TVW March meeting

Author Karen Joy Fowler will speak at the Tri-Valley Writers meeting on March 17. Her most recent release is What I Didn’t See and Other Stories. The meeting will be at the Four Points by Sheraton; $10 for members, $15 for non-members. Reservations required.

My Life as a Walking Tetris by Lani Longshore

The anthology is in print, we had a wonderful launch party at Towne Center Books in Pleasanton, but the long shadow of the To-Do List is creeping over my joy. Like many of you – probably all of you – I have a lot of irons in the fire. Writing isn’t the only thing I do, so time management is essential. I have lists and charts and graphs in all of my work spaces, reminding me of the endless and varied deadlines that rule my life. In fact, I have so many lists and charts and graphs that I’m starting to think of myself as a Walking Tetris.

My day is broken into chunks, and as one item gets crossed off the to-do list another slips in to take its place. Whatever is left undone at the end of one day is rolled over to the next day. Thus, the weeks also get broken into chunks, with the work of one day slipping into the work for the next.

Sometimes everything proceeds smoothly, but sometimes the piece that slid in so easily prevents the next piece from locking in place. When that happens, by the end of the week my to-do list is as long as it was at the beginning, and now I have another week’s worth of projects to add to it.

When the projects pile up, which is most of the time, even finishing something as exciting as the anthology can get lost in the rush to the next thing in line. Just this once, however, I think I’ll turn the lists over, cover the charts and hide the graphs. Tomorrow I’ll be a Walking Tetris again, ruled by deadlines – tonight I’m reveling in a project completed.

 

 

 

 

 

Pride and Process by Lani Longshore

Bragging is frowned upon in polite society, but I’m going to do it anyway. The first anthology of Tri-Valley Writers, Voices of The Valley: First Press, is now in print. The club has dreamed of providing members an opportunity to experience being published, and like all big dreams it never seems quite real when it comes true.

The dream felt real enough in the middle of the process. The club decided to be as professional as possible about the anthology, which meant that members were asked to submit their work – then submit themselves to the review and revision process. The anthology committee collaborated with each submitter in an editor-client relationship. All thirty authors in the book, including the members of the committee, had a chance to experience seeing their words through another’s eyes. The back and forth, give and take of this type of revision proved beyond doubt the truth of the adage that the best writers are re-writers.

After revision, the committee had another opportunity to learn and grow: creating the manuscript. Assembling thirty voices expressing their unique truths in poetry, memoir, travel and short fiction opened our eyes to the way separate stories can be viewed as a whole. There is as much art in deciding where the pieces fit as in deciding what illustration goes on the cover.

Now comes the next step in publication – promotion. The well-bred lady my mother wants me to be must stand aside for the glad-hander, smiling as I swoop down on my friends and family announcing, “Look at this!” Still, when the product one is promoting is as wonderful as Voices of The Valley: First Press, bragging comes easy.

 

 

Voices of the Valley Launch Party

California Writers Club Tri-Valley Branch and Towne Center Books are proud to introduce Voices of the Valley: First Press. This first anthology of the Tri-Valley Branch contains short stories, memoirs, and poetry. Please join us to celebrate on Saturday, January 28, from 2-4 pm at Towne Center Books, 555 Main Street, Pleasanton, 94566. We’ll have refreshments and readings by the writers. Free. Reservations are not necessary but always helpful. 925-846-8826 or orders@townecenterbooks.com

Twas two months before Christmas by Julie Royce

Our critique group gave ourselves a challenge to write a story based on an object and a place. We gave ourselves a year and planned to read the stories at our December meeting. As the deadline approached, Julie Royce found herself enmeshed in a story that would not behave itself. She wrote the following poem instead, and now we offer it as Tri-Valley’s Christmas present to our readers. – Lani Longshore

Twas two months before Christmas,

when away at Retreat,

three patiently waited,

their muses to meet.

We glanced at each other,

eyes locked in blank stare.

in hopes inspiration

soon would be there.

Our characters nestled

all snug in their files,

while visions of brilliance

demanded our wiles.

With Elaine in her bathrobe,

Janie coffee in hand,

we settled to writing,

our courses well-planned.

When from my far bedroom

the walls echoed my yell,

as I thought of the words,

and the drawing from hell.

I fingered the slip,

and swallowed the lump

that rose in my throat

to cause writers’ slump.

Baton and Atlanta,

the words hadn’t changed.

A tough assignment

left me feeling deranged.

When what to my wondering

mind did there lurk,

the germ of an idea

with which I could work.

Like flashes of lightening,

the plot twists they came.

I whistled and typed,

gave characters name.

No adjectives! No adverbs!

just strong verbs – not weak,

Showing! Not telling!

and descriptions not bleak.

The words they came,

on a spectacular roll.

Here a phrase, there a phrase,

I rushed towards my goal.

Then as dry leaves that before

the wild hurricane fly,

my mind met an obstacle,

made me break down and cry.

Those twirling batons

were becoming a pain,

and Atlanta was causing

a major brain-drain.

My story was silly,

a whole lot of trite,

and no further reflection

would make it sound right.

And then in a twinkling,

my other work called.

Nanowrimo was looming,

I had no time to stall.

With not a moment to waste,

from frustrating file fled.

I could visit it later,

for now put it to bed.

I showered and dressed,

rebooted my brain,

slouched back at my laptop,

and started again.

A bundle of words,

I flung on the pages.

I looked like an author,

quite maddened by ages.

My eyes – how they narrowed!

Back firmly on track!

Now the Atlanta monkey

was peeled from my back.

I told my droll little self,

with thoughts swimming smug,

I’d find time for it later,

I gave a pleased shrug.

The rest of the weekend,

I held tight to my plan.

While words flew to the screen,

and first drafts to trash can.

A broad smile on my face,

as I shelved the baton,

would I ever transform

my ugly duckling to swan?

When bronchitis came knocking,

I found myself ill.

and work product dwindled

to practically nil.

Fate again winked its eye,

in an unscheduled twist,

and a heavy dose of hectic

my crazy life kissed.

Courtney landed a job,

she was headed to work.

As an aid to her planning,

her mom was a perk.

I sprang into action,

my boys needed their Granny,

to assist the transition

from Mommy to Nanny.

A week I was gone,

twelve hours each day.

Thoughts of Atlanta

stayed far, far away.

So you’ll hear me exclaim

amidst complaints of my plight,

Merry Christmas to all,

but I had no time to write!