New Website -- Come See Me Here...

Check out my new website/blog here (and maybe buy my book!). Looking forward to "seeing" you soon!

Not Yet Flown North for Spring Or Summer

Since I've not yet migrated my blog to a custom URL, I'm not sure what will happen to it (I'm still receiving dire warnings, which, if translated correctly mean my blog may one day disappear, or burst forth in a language currently unknown to mankind).

I watched the video on the mechanics of transferring, but got bogged down about three minutes in and decided to simply wait until my new website is ready before blogging in earnest again.

New site will look like a website but function like a blog, so I won't have to rely on my webmaster to plug in changes. He's in the throes of designing now, but plan is to have something up and running by mid/late May. Please stay tuned. Thank you!

The Only House We Haven't Looked At

Having sold our two-story in Folsom, Steve and I have been house-hunting for a few weeks now. We've looked at new houses, old houses, remodels, short-sales, REOs, houses on the river, houses in the park, two-stories, one-stories, houses with goats, houses with hives, and one house with an indoor theater posing as a church.

The house above may be the only one we haven't looked at.

Shasta Lake -- Before and After

Steve flew over Shasta Lake last November, and took this shot from a helicopter. Gorgeous, but upsetting; lake levels were so low, there was speculation it would take 10 years for it to fill again...

...and now here it is, five months later. The lake holds 4.5 million acre feet of water, and it's now at 4.1. Although the snow has already started melting, more fell last week. Once the lake is full, it will spill into the Sacramento River, and we'll either 1) use it, or 2) run for our lives. See you on the ark, people!

Here at last, here at last, thank God almighty...

They're here at last!

My publisher, Jim Brumfield, sent this box of ARCs -- Advanced Reading Copies -- of my novel, THE BRIDGE AT VALENTINE, which the UPS man delivered yesterday. Couldn't wait to tear into it and check out the book, which looks terrific, all glossy and trade-paperback-ish, nestled in its box of white Styrofoam wrap. Never has a delivery man in shorts made me so deliriously happy. Now to share with a few key local reviewers, and pray for happy results.

Keep your fingers and toes crossed? (I've said it before, but I'll say it again -- it takes a village to sell a book!) Thanks for your support!

The Bridge at Valentine -- Pre-order from Amazon Now -- Woo!

THE BRIDGE AT VALENTINE, my first novel, is now available on amazon.com for pre-ordering. Although Amazon says the book debuts August 16, that's an error -- it actually debuts August 1, which Amazon promises to fix. Soon.

Meanwhile, my publisher received his first box of ARCs (Advance Reader Copies) and says they look great. Now keep your fingers crossed for some great reviews...

For Love of Positano, Part 2

Just returned from six days at Sirenland, a writers' workshop in Positano, Italy. This is the library at Le Sirenuse, the hotel where we worked, slept, ate.

Steve walked the streets of Positano while I workshopped my short story with Ron Carlson and nine workshop-mates. This gate is representative of everything that is lovely about this little village. Really wanted to climb those steps and see the house behind it.

The streets are lined with small shops, offering their wares. Lots of color here, where the clothes/handbags/boots in Rome are primarily black.

This man looked like a skillful diver, but he struggled when he dove. He came up empty-handed.

Renee and art historian, Professor Enrico Bruschini. We're touring the Vatican, walking the Gallery of Maps.

Outside the Vatican, heads reeling. We'll need three more days to see it all, and we're running out of time!

Enjoying the exterior of the Pantheon, where a group of Hare Krishnas were singing in the street. One man stopped to give me a cookie. It was delicious; almond flavoring, I think.

In Rome, outside our hotel, Pensione Barrett. A group of demonstrators -- easily one thousand or more -- were protesting the privatization of water. Steve thought this couple looked like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

The lounge at the airport in Rome. This man looks like we felt when we finally hit Washington, DC. It's funny now, only because we've recovered from jet lag. Let's go again next year!

For Love of Positano

Off to Sirenland in five short days, where I'll meet 29 other writers and three instructors -- Dani Shapiro, Jim Shepard, and Ron Carlson -- as well as Hannah Tinti and Michael Maren, and where we'll hunker to read, write, listen and learn.

The workshop is held on the Amalfi Coast in Positano -- one of those picturesque villages situated on the face of a cliff, and where shops and houses are painted in shades of the sea. Writer Elizabeth Berg spent some time here recently, attending cooking classes, which she recounts in her essay, "Amalfi Coast: A Moveable Feast." I'm a mediocre cook (at best), and until I read this essay, not particularly interested in learning to become a better one. But having read of Berg's experience, I'm inclined to improve not only my writing, but my cooking, too, at this class in Positano.

Maybe we'll meet there?

Photo by Massimo Bassano

Story of the Week Hits Narrative Mag

Narrative Magazine is running my short story, "Farallon," as a Story of the Week beginning today, March 8, through Saturday, March 13. Take a look here. After March 13, readers may access the story via Narrative's archives. (I workshopped this story last August at Squaw Valley, with Ron Carlson as my workshop leader, so I owe a special shout-out to Ron and my workshop-mates. Thank you, writing friends!)

I'll have a chance to work with Ron again in Positano, Italy, at the Sirenland Writers Conference, and, I hope, to meet Dani Shapiro, Jim Shepard, Hannah Tinti, and Michael Maren. Workshop of a lifetime!

Cooperative Poser

Steve and I are thinking of putting our two-story house on the market in mid-April. We've been talking about buying a one-story for a couple of years now, and have finally begun the search. There's a beautiful place not too far from here that's close to Folsom Lake, with access to great birdwatching habitat. We checked it out again yesterday, and came upon two western bluebirds, among a throng of bushtits (laugh all you want...go ahead, just get it out).

This little fellow was the most cooperative poser.

How Cruel Thou Art, Mother Nature

Brief hiatus as I recuperate from the chainsaw Mother Nature took to my throat, and the tree she felled on my head.

Please stay tuned...

Great Backyard Bird Count

This is the third year Steve and I have participated in the Great Backyard Bird Count, sponsored by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Audubon, and Bird Studies Canada. The count takes place over four days, from Friday, February 12 through Monday, February 15. The count creates a real-time snapshot of birds across the continent, and anyone can join in -- you don't have to be an expert birder to record the birds in your area.

Steve took the photo above of these hooded mergansers on the pond near the house. And below, a few more snapshots...

A California towhee, eyeballing Steve near the trail.

And a yellow-rumped warbler, shortly after emerging from a bath in the creek.

This is a spotted towhee (formerly known as a rufous-sided towhee, the name I'll forever call it; why did they change it, anyway?)...

...and last, a dark-eyed junco (formerly known as the Oregon junco -- ditto above).

Leaving Cheyenne -- Review in Narrative Magazine

I have long, long, long been a fan of Larry McMurtry, so when Narrative Magazine asked if I'd be interested in reviewing LEAVING CHEYENNE for its First and Second Looks series, I was delighted to accept the invitation.

The review hit the magazine today, and if you love Larry as much as I do, please join me in the revelry here.

Great Horned Owl Chicks

Steve took this photo of these very fat and fluffy great horned owl chicks while working as a wildlife biologist at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in southeast Oregon some 900 years ago. We're older now, but ever optimistic, and if we're lucky we'll have some owlets in the redwood trees next to the house this year. Only one problem: where's the nest?

Tree-huggers and leaf-lovers: our family of four

One of the really great gifts of living on or around wildlife refuges is the chance to hop onto a trail for a quick nature walk. When Jena was seven, and Maya was four, Steve worked as a wildlife biologist at Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge on southern Puget Sound, and we often plucked the binoculars from their hook in the kitchen and hit the refuge trails. On this day, the girls spotted a young garter snake, then scooped it up for a better look (click on the pic to see its flashing tongue) while Steve snapped a photo.

To this day, our girls are nature lovers; Jena works for a national conservation organization, and Maya has returned to school to pursue a degree in wildlife biology, while working part-time for her pops.

Never Take No Cutoffs

"Never take no cutoffs, and hurry along as fast as you can." Such was the advice of twelve-year-old Virginia Reed, as she chronicled her family's survival as members of the Donner Party.

Although I have twice read George R. Stewart's "Ordeal by Hunger: The Story of the Donner Party," and am familiar with the details -- the harrowing journey, the diaries, the hope and despair -- I was moved by last night's "The Donner Party," a documentary written and directed by Ric Burns, and featured on PBS's American Experience. While the account wasn't new, the treatment was, and it was the actors' portrayal of the Reeds, Donners and Breens (all in voiceover -- we never actually saw them) that made the film feel fresh.

The interviews (some new, some archived), too, were touching: Wallace Stegner (who died in 1993) said of the story, "Oh, it's got everything. It's a Greek tragedy. It's a great test of human character. Some people came through it heroically and some of the people in that party were far from heroes and they got worse as the conditions got worse, so that it was as if the sheep and the goats, the blessed and the unblessed, sorted themselves out against a background of terrible hardship and tragedy."

At 90 minutes, the film is just right -- although I would have gladly watched more.

Stories on Stage

Sacramento's newest monthly reading series, hosted by Valerie Fioravanti, Stories on Stage, debuted on January 29 at the Sacramento Poetry Center, and featured Jodi Angel's "The Skin from the Muscle" (read by actor William Kay) and Naomi Williams' "Snow Men" (read by actor Cynthia Mitchell Speakman).

The series will run on the last Friday of each month, and my own story, "Old Will Road," (which originally appeared in Narrative Magazine in May 2009) will be featured on April 30. Would love it if you'd pop in for a listen.

More details to come...

So Long, Holden Caulfield

The first time I ever laughed out loud while reading a book was in the midst of CATCHER IN THE RYE. Rest in peace, J.D. Salinger.

Who Cooks For You? Who? Who?

This great horned owl and his (her?) mate have been hovering around this redwood tree for a couple of weeks now. The tree is roughly 50 yards from the backyard, and the owls balance at the very top in the early morning, around 7 a.m., and again in the evening, around 5 p.m., calling to a third owl, somewhere in the distance.

This morning, they both flew from the redwood to the eucalyptus, then back to the redwood again; when one flew off, the other sat tight, so Steve ran upstairs to fetch his camera. This is the result, although he wasn't thrilled -- the sky was overcast and the light poor -- but I think it's pretty good.

He also ordered an owl call from Cabela's; instructions say to blow it as if you're saying: "Who cooks for you? Who? Who?" But every time we try, we crack up. Which means we won't quit our day jobs.

Storm of the Decade

Steve's been a lover of open water all his life, swimming, surfing, and scuba diving in the Pacific Ocean. But even he was intimidated when he saw these waves off the coast of Elk, CA (just south of Mendocino) on Monday, January 18, in the midst of a winter storm. He estimated the swells at close to 30 feet.

These, too, although you had to be there to appreciate them (and be terrified by them).

The brown pelicans were wary, too; they huddled on the shore in a group of 200 the first two days we were there.

Steve was standing on a hilltop when he took this photo. I found the abalone shell at the edge of a creek that had become a river that was rushing into the ocean. The rain gear is no joke -- about three minutes after the photo was taken, the sky opened and Zeus drained his bathtub on our heads.

Road Trip

Verlyn Klinkenborg, a writer who sits on the editorial board of The New York Times, recently wrote an essay, “The Road West,” which inspired me to dig through the notes in my "idea" file -- six pages from my reporter's notebook, detailing our road trip in 2002, when Steve and I drove across the country during our move from Georgia to California.

Here are the highlights:

• Just outside Birmingham, gas was $1.03 a gallon; in Little Rock, $1.06. Nothing beat Oklahoma City, though, at 99 cents, which warranted an exclamation point in my notes.

• Someone wrote “Colby is my bitch” in white spray paint on a highway overpass near Jasper, Alabama. A few miles down the road, someone else wrote “I love Lucy Baxter.” There were a lot of signs, too. In Jasper, it was widely advertised that you could get “Same-day dentures” before enjoying an exotic dance at the Booby Trap, and then lunch at BK’s Barbecue in Holly Springs, Mississippi. (The man next to me ordered six bowls of soup and ate them all. Steve ordered a hamburger.)

• On Thursday, February 28, as we were driving from Little Rock to Amarillo, Steve and I began discussing the Grand Canyon. I wanted to go, Steve didn’t (he’s been there twice already), and so he said it was closed. He thought this was hilarious, and repeated it several times, saying, “You should write that down.”

• From Amarillo to New Mexico, there wasn't t much to see, beyond a few broken down corrals and windmills, with some rim rocks in the distance. It reminded me of southeast Oregon.

• The speed limit outside Albuquerque was 75 m.p.h., but no one drove that fast.

• In Grants, NM, there were no trash receptacles at the gas station where we stopped, and we had to haul our empty Coke cans, potato chip bags, and banana peels to Flagstaff – where it was eight degrees at 7 a.m., when we awoke on March 2. We spent a few hours at the Grand Canyon (shocker, it was open after all), and on the way to Needles, we passed an old lakebed with rock outcroppings that ribboned over the surface like half-submerged serpents; accompanying this description in my notebook is a sketch of the Loch Ness monster. I wish I’d taken a photo.

• I tallied the dead animals we saw along the way, which included six coyotes; three dogs; one cow (which I mistook for a washing machine); six skunks (one of them at milepost 43, said Steve, trying to be helpful); one pheasant; one red-tailed hawk; one sage thrasher; one cat; two owls; one raccoon; and one “unidentifiable.”

• On March 3, at 1:30 p.m., we arrived in Sacramento. It was the best road trip ever, and I was sorry it was over. I'm ready to go again.

"Heel" Your Dog in Slingbacks

I met Sandra Ramirez-Thomas at the 2007 Squaw Valley Writers Workshop, and we've stayed in touch, critiquing one anothers' stories now and then, and following our day-to-day activities on Facebook.

Not long ago, Sandra's FB profile pic featured her dog's feet encased in vintage slingback heels; I thought this was clever and funny, and mentioned it to my daughter, Jena, after realizing her own dog's feet resembled the feet of Sandra's dog.

Jena thought this story was a hoot, and yesterday, sent this pic of Miley.

Gives new meaning entirely to "heeling" your dog.

Coming Soon: Narrative's New iStory App

Narrative Magazine's free iPhone app debuts in early 2010. To celebrate their launch, they've created the iStory, 150 words of dramatic fiction or nonfiction, and are soliciting submissions now. Narrative pays $250 for each iStory accepted. (Check out the guidelines here.)

My own iStory, "Assets," appears here, along with iStories from Alan Ziegler, Skip Horack, and Yuvi Zalkow. We'd be honored if you'd give us a read.