Catching Up to the Now

I admit it. I actually almost forgot I had this blog page. It's been dormant for many years, but here is sat, waiting patiently for me to visit once again and blog about my life after retirement.

So much has changed since I last posted. I have a new son-in-law and two more amazing grandchildren - totaling 5 precious girls and 1 adorable boy. I've officially retired, moved south of Atlanta to a wonderful little town, and find myself busier than ever. That's a good thing - a joyous thing to be nearly 68 and finally doing what I've always loved -- oil painting, writing, and playing with my grands.

So much to say, but so little time this morning. I am researching two new stories for the local magazine that I've been privileged to write for over the last 12 months. Excitement about who I will meet and what I will learn propels me forward today. I'll write more about some of the adventures Larry and I (and Charlie, our adopted Golden) have shared since moving here 3 years ago. All I can say now is, "God is so good!"

Come back soon....I will too!

Sue

I haven't posted in a couple years, so this is just a quick test to see how well it works. I intend to regenerate this blog and tell the story or my wonderful "Mother-in-law" in spirit, Alicia Rush. Keep an eye out here.

SUCCINCTLY YOURS

In response to Grandma Goulash's weekly micro-fiction challenge, I submit:

I used to hate this shed where he came to drink while he worked the wood. Now he was gone and I’d become as he had been.

I've been a writer since I first picked up a fat pencil in my chubby little hand and carefully drew out my name.

At five, I wrote down a prayer when my grandfather died and read it at his funeral. At eight, I had a poem published in a church newsletter, and in Jr. High my teacher dissuaded me from writing poems because of my use of archaic expressions such as "days of yore" (influence of the TV program Dark Shadows, no doubt). I moved on to short stories, longer stories, and even a couple of novels. I earned my living by writing very short personality sketches. Then, the lights went out.

My department was downsized and I was part of the flotsam and jetsam that was jettisoned into the world of unemployed workers of advanced age. I had so much to say, that I dared not say it, for fear that letting it out would somehow destroy me. The thoughts inside me were at times dark, sad, self-demeaning, vitriolic, and acrid. To let that out would burn me, I feared, as surely as vomiting acid.

Therefore, I stayed quiet and retreated from the world of words for several months. I stewed in a pot of self-reproach and sat for days in my own dirty diapers, metaphorically speaking, of course. When the stew pot boiled over, I realized it was time to clean up the mess and move out of the kitchen.

I tried to resurrect old projects and to get interested in new ones, but I couldn't find enough energy to focus on words. So I switched to my other passion - art. Oil painting freed me up from constrictions...from thinking too much. Taking a pallet knife and swirling thick paint on a canvas, like liberally frosting one's own birthday cake, was cathartic. There's no right or wrong in art. There are no grammar rules to follow. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, and the only important beholder is oneself!

After attending an art retreat with dear friends, I returned home opened up. Ready to share my words with others. Ready to be vulnerable again. Projects are racing through my head and I can hardly contain the excitement. God has spoken to me--given me a germ of an idea of how I can turn my untimely "retirement" experiences into a blessing for others by sharing them.

The paints are temporarily packed away, as they have done their job for now. My writing muse has returned. I invite you to come back again for more insights into the life of the retired-too-soon-but-not-out-of-work world of Sue Davis. Come along for the ride.

A Friend, a Car, and a Saturday Night

Feeling kinda blue, I was
On that weekend night.
Come with me, I called to her
Let’s go see the sights.

Laying down the clump of keys
To my sturdy Olds-mo-bile.
I opted for my daughter’s car
And made her tires squeal.

A little red convertible is
What my daughter drove
“Just what the doctor ordered,” said I
As we headed for the cove.

Wind rushed through our streaming hair
As I steered around the bend
“Let’s go find adventure,” I cried
As I smiled at my friend.

She rode in happy silence
Enjoying the warm night air
Sitting straight and proud-like
While the wind caressed her hair.

What better way to spend some time
Than with a longtime friend.
One who’s seen you at your worst
But who’s loyal to the end.

We parked the car beside the lake
And took the long way ‘round.
We spied the feathered ducks and geese
Followed by their babes of down.

We watched the old men fishing
Though nothing they had caught
I wondered if it was a meal
Or companionship they sought.

My friend, always a lady,
Gave everyone a greeting
She made each see her pleasure
at this unexpected meeting.

We left the park and climbed back in
Our chariot made of steel
A quick run through a drive-in
To share a Happy Meal.

Back home, my friend, she thanked me
In her way which cannot fail
She gave my face a big wet kiss
And then, she wagged her tail!

Copyright Sue Davis 2001

Writing Conference Afterglow

This is the fourth year I attended the Harriette Austin Writer's Conference held at UGA in Athens, Georgia. Every year the event seems to run smoother, or I'm finally picking up clues about how to get the best out of the experience.

Whenever I return from one of these things, I experience conference afterglow, that floating feeling one feels after a big event that is emotionally satisfying. My confidence as a writer is usually restored after talking to other writers; my need for social contact is satisfied for awhile, and the adreneline is still pumping after smelling the nearness of possible success as a published novelist. For a day or two, I smile alot, daydream even more, and find my mind wandering to the day when Oprah will be announcing the title of my novel as her book club selection.

I've mentioned the conference so often to people, that they have passed on that information to others who are interested, and finally a group of friends of friends showed up and I finally felt not so isolated while milling around from class to class.

An Observation:
A new writing friend this year pointed out something I had overlooked. The women were very supportive of one another, while the men seemed rather introspective. For example, at a lunch table, one would sit with 7 other folks. The accepted unspoken proticol required that you turn to each of the others at your table in turn and inquire as to their writing interests and successes.

While the men were quite willing to share their stories, they seldom if ever returned the favor of asking about yours! We decided that this was no deliberate slight, but just a difference between the hard-wiring of the sexes. In general, women seem to naturally be more nurturing. We have those particular genes. Men, on the other hand, are generally taught the rules of survival. Take care of yourself.

It got me to wondering about the breakdown of authors by gender. Who gets published more often? Men or women? That statistic may have been easy to come by once, but in our new techno-world, publishing has also been made more complex with the advent of self-publishing and e-books, to the point that accurate statistics may not be available. It seems like writing groups are predominatly women and book clubs, the same. But men seem to hold their own as authors. If anyone has information on this, please pass it along.

So, you may ask. Are writing conferences worth the money for a newbie trying to break into print? I think so. I've only attended this one at UGA, but I found that each year the presenters bring fresh material and answer questions I didn't know I had. They present an opportunity to meet agents and editors, which is one of the best things. As in other avenues, it always helps to have a referral when it comes time to stand out from the crowd and stay out of the slush pile.

One thing I'd say is, the closer you are to finding an agent or publisher, the more you will probably get out of a conference. They do not have hands-on workshops at this one, at which you can improve your skills, although there are some of those out there. This one is more focused on matching up writers with professionals who can help advance their career.

So, now I've written this blog, I've been able to expend some of that pent up writer's energy that's been bouncing around inside me all day. Remember, life is journey, and our words can act as breadcrumbs on the path for those behind us.

Writing credits

Sue actually began her writing career with a poem about Heaven, which was published in her church’s monthly newsletter when she was only eight. The sudden abundant wealth and fame attendant with that printing led her to crave more. “I knew the sky was the limit!” she said of her heavenly pursuits.

She went on to many writing projects in junior and senior high, some of which, when confiscated by substitute teachers, were read to the entire class for their enjoyment. Soon she was infamous. During those classic teenaged years filled with angst, Sue expressed herself mostly through poor poetry and romantic stories of unrequited love.

It wasn’t until she became a wife and mother that Sue began to seriously consider writing for publication. She became a contributing editor to The Mustard Seed and the Cloverleaf, quarterly literary magazines of faith stories. She has been published in the Atlanta Journal Constitution and the Mansfield News Journal. Her short stories have been published in two editions of the best selling anthology series, Cup of Comfort.

Not able to keep her fingers still when near a computer keyboard, Sue has worked for the last five years as Project Manager in the communications department of an international non-profit training organization. She is the in-house writer in the home office for all their printed material, including their internationally distributed magazine, Leaders for Today.

She is author of Abraham’s Table, a chronicle of the life of an immigrant Jewish girl who experiences anti-Semitism and witnesses racism and bigotry, and determines to fight back with her most powerful tool — her words.

Her second manuscript, a sequel to Abraham’s Table, is in the works.