Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Rejections! Book Give-AWAY for you!

I get rejected a lot. Sometimes I feel like a desperate 16 year old boy in search of a date for the prom. About January I start thinking about what pottery shows and sales I want to apply for. Many people don't understand that artists, potters included, don't just pay a fee and show up at a festival. It takes a bit of research to find the shows that will be best to showcase your work. Then you apply with up to a $50 non-refundable fee to say nothing of the booth fee if by chance your accepted. You send slides (now much of this is online) of your work and your booth. Just a fraction of artists that apply to any given show are allowed in. Now I'm not talking about county fairs--I'm talking about bonafied art fests. They are expensive and difficult to get in.
Sometimes I try out a sale. Two years ago I went to an art festival near where our son lived. It bombed. I could have sold more on my front lawn with a handmade sign stuck to a telephone pole. I wasn't rejected in the application process, but my the numerous festival goers with obvious money, who said things like, "Beautiful work, but I don't know how I'd carry it on the plane." If I hadn't been staying with my son's family, I would have lost money on that sale. Last year, we went through the same thing at a Montana show. This one bombed out because of the economy and the weather. Anyway making and selling pottery is not for wimps. And neither is book writing and publishing. Either way you must be prepared for a lot of knocks along the way. Sometimes I get sick of it all, but then every once in a while there's a silver lining. I hear there's a book give away of my newest book on Good Reads. Sun Tunnels and Secrets. And check out Anne Bradshaw's blog. We'll be giving away my first book "A Question of Trust" there. If you don't win, you'll find it on Amazon or you can order it here.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Earth, Wind, and Fire. . . and water.

Yesterday, we went on a hike up High Creek Trail starting in Cove. Wow, it was so beautiful. I'd heard of this trail for years. Last year I made an attempt to hike it, but we had a lot of water crossings. Still last year was fun too. This year though--bridges ran over the stream. The bridges weren't new either. So I'm not sure where we hiked last year. Last year we started in Richmond and wound around looking for the trial head. The Cove way is more straight forward.  Well, there are plenty of vistas and the the creek is beautiful. The flowers are still great even. We saw plenty of Indian Paint Brush--not as many as on the White Pine Trail, but still ample to delight the senses.
Before the hike though, we had to detour to drop something off at my cousin's house in Smithfield. On the detour off the main road, our friend Mike said, very calmy, I might add. "Is that house on fire?" Without any urgency in his voice at all--so eventually my husband turned around and then around again until we were in front of an older home. Smoke was indeed coming out from under the roof on all sides. A mail carrier sat out front eating her lunch. We asked her if she thought the house was on fire. She jumped into action--knowing the occupant. We banged on doors and windows calling for the occupant, an elderly woman. Mike called the fire in, and within a minute we heard sirens.

Well, Mick and I are very cautious about calling in fires, having once called in a fire that turned out to be nothing but smoke--perhaps even smoke from a barbeque. And that time fire trucks from our town and neighboring towns converged on the smoke and jumped out in full fire fighter attire. They kind of wondered I believe who the idiot was who called in the fire. We'd said "Next time, we'll make sure we see the flames." This time there were no flames, but the smoke came out from under the roof and out the window. Indeed the whole house was filled with smoke. About the same time the police officer stepped into the home and grabbed a burning pan off the stove, the elderly woman came hobbling safely out of the back yard--where she was presumably doing yard work. Mike made a comment to the police officer that the woman must have been cooking meth--what with the green smoke from the pan, a sure sign of meth. Yes, he was joking, but I'm not sure it was the best time. When the police officer cracked open the door of the house again, a cat came barreling out. The elderly woman kept trying to go back into the house. She wanted to open some windows to let the smoke out, but they wouldn't let her go in. Any time the police officer left her for a minute--she'd try to get in. Finally, right before the firetrucks got there, we left. Then we had our wonderful, albeit a bit hot hike.

Later that night, we were coming home from a wedding reception. The trees in Hyrum have been ravaged by recent wind and hail storm. We passed by our old house once again. Sadly, the house has been foreclosed on, and the nice buyers have moved. The house has been vacant at the hottest part of summer.  This time I decided I couldn't stand to watch all the trees we planted die. The house is not ours, but still letting trees die isn't right. I got a hose and went back. Then from 9 to 10 at night I watered. I don't know if I saved any. I'll do it again next week. The willow tree seems to be completely dead. And this is the tree that made me cry.  Our daughter has always been a unique person and came to us with a strong will and creative mind. When she was three years old, she wanted two light bulbs for Christmas. We later realized, it wasn't a light bulb she wanted, but a light cover. She didn't like staring up at the bare light bulb at night in her bedroom. The other light bulb she wanted was a night light. From about then on forever and ever, she wanted a pig--but never got one. When she was eight she wanted rose bushes. And when she was ten?--not sure the exact age, she wanted a willow tree. We have pictures of her standing by that tree. We were going to take pics every year on her birthday, but we would forgot so only have a few. I thought I had severed ties to the old house. I think I have, but the trees well they are another story and they each have their own story.

As far as I know, my old neighbors didn't call the police for my trespassing.