Catching Up

Sorry about being MIA for a couple of weeks. Nothing bad happened. Just too much work and too little time to do everything.

So, what's happened in the last three weeks?

I recorded a radio essay for WVTF two weeks ago. It's called You're Never Too Old with a main theme of it's never too late to behave like a little kid. It has a smooshed cake in it.

My novel, Unintended Consequences, was selected as a finalist in the Smith Mountain Arts Council Unpublished Novel contest.

I sucked in my breath and sent a poem (!) called Three Weeks to a MAJOR national magazine. Three months wait to see if the editor is interested. Fingers are crossed, but hey, nothing ventured, nothing sprained.

I sent out six more query letters and collected three rejections (two form, one personalized and quite nice -- must be a new agent!!!) from the first batch. It's a dead heat between my short and long query letter.

I went back to Jeff Herman's Guide and was surprised at how many agents still want snail-mail. Some agencies have gone totally green, but many agents clearly said they gave more credence to snail-mail.

I got to thinking about this and saw the rationale behind using USPS. Why? Because when you physically sign a letter, put it in an envelope, remember to put stamps on the SASE and march it out to the post box at the end of the drive, you give more thought to what you are doing.

Even though we all know that an e-query must be as professional as a hard-copy query, and even though we know we have to check and double-check whether we are querying the right agent, it is somehow easier to pick an agent, tweak a letter slightly, cut and paste a chapter into the e-mail message (if requested) and hit the Send Key.

Yes, I'm keeping track of snail- versus e-queries. More to report later.

Willie and Bob and John

No, it's not a variation of the old lament, Abraham, Martin and John. It's a concert I went to in Virginia Beach Saturday. Three signature performers, each doing a full one-hour set.

We started with 76-year-old Willie Nelson. Still sounds like he always has, but with a voice that is somewhat lower. Looks much the same as he always has. Of course, Willie's looked dried up for decades. Willie sang many of his old favorites and the crowd got into it, singing along and rocking in the stands.

Next was the kid, John Mellencamp, formerly known as John Cougar and John Cougar Mellencamp. At least we can pronounce his various names, unlike Prince. Melloncamp at 58 was the youngest and still hasn't decided if he's a balladeer or a rocker. He was best at hitting his rock groove, but disappointed the crowd by not singing his signature ballad, Jack and Diane.

Last was the 68-year-old voice of a generation, Bob Dylan, heavily amped, huge sound, garbled words. Oh wait, Dylan always garbled his words. Voice is much lower. He didn't do anything acoustic, which is what I liked best about his early work. Only two signature songs. He was pushing a new CD. Can't decide if it's good or not. He growled and chewed his words to the point where his voice became a percussive instrument. Oh yes, he still plays harmonica better than he sings.

I saw Dylan 40 years ago. Now I can cross Willie off my bucket list. John was never on it.

All in all, the tied-died and support hose group enjoyed a wild evening, even if it wasn't completely what it wanted.

Uncle Walter

I miss Walter Cronkite. When the first warning that he was seriously ill came across the Associated Press wire a couple of weeks ago, I thought his time on earth was short enough to touch. It was. And I wish I had been wrong.

I grew up with Walter Cronkite on the evening news. The day wasn't complete without him telling us what had happened. He reported THE NEWS. With two outstanding exceptions, he was never part of the story. An old wire service reporter, he knew how to "write tight," edit to get to the heart of the story, and present the story because it was important in and of itself.

We know of the two moments when he was part of the story: wiping tears away when he reported President Kennedy's assassination on November 22 and when he was so proud when John Glenn took his "one giant step for mankind."

I was ambused last night in Market Square in Roanoke by a young TV reporter from Channel 7 who couldn't possibly have seen him live. What she missed! She asked a couple of questions - needed a gray-haired woman's point of view. I told her.

I had the pleasure of meeting him several times when I worked in NYC. A funny man who told the bluest of jokes, but only if he asked if you would be uncomfortable first. I wasn't and I heard plenty of those jokes.

Uncle Walter, now you have joined your lovely Betsy. Sail away, dear man. We miss you more than you can imagine.

Meow-whine

{begin whine

My humans went away last weekend. Instead of quietly leaving me behind in my lovely house with my own food in a timed dish, they sent me to jail! They call it camp. It's jail, meow-it! I mean, it has bars and I can't run around outside or sleep on the floor or sneak a nap on the loveseat or drink from my own dish or anything. Why would anyone send me, such a cool cat, to jail?

My humans went to visit cousin Rosie. I admit she's cute and tiny and is allowed on any upholstered furniture. I will remind my humans that I am NOT allowed on upholstered furniture, so I have to sneak my naps.... Anyway, cousin Rosie is petite. She weighs less than ten pounds. If she came to see me, I'd squash her. I weigh a svelte fourteen. She says she has a sister O'Grady but my humans have only seen her once and doubt that she's real.

Leave it to say, I got even when my humans got home. My female human was working at her desk and my male human hadn't gotten up yet. (My female human gets up really early. I help. I meow her awake when I get hungry.) I went upstairs to wake up my male human. One warning meow didn't work. So I tossed my kibbies all over the carpet. Served him right!

They'll never leave me in jail again.

{end whine