I’ve missed you so much. But with fall comes (I hope) an increase in writing and podcasting activity. Much to tell you — been a VERY busy few months. Until then, I want to share the latest episode of my and Barry’s podcast, MFA Payday, with you.
Chella Courington returns to our podcast to share her latest release, a dynamic volume of poetry called “Hearts Forged in Resistance,” pre-order price guaranteed until September 8, 2023. The book will be released by Finishing Line Press on November 10, 2023.
Listen to us speak with Chella about her hauntingly vivid poems and hear her read on this episode. You don’t want to miss her beautiful use of language and her evocative images, flowers of words, all. I tell you, talking with her made me want to go on a poetry reading jag. (I just finished a thrilling volume by another friend of mine, but though I was able to leave her a quick Amazon review, I haven’t had time to spend with it over here the way I intend to in a month or so. It’s so gorgeous and it deserves all of my attention.)
(Anyway, you can hear Chella’s husband, Ted, say hello in the background now and again. If you listened to our episode with them a few months ago, you’ll remember him. It was fun interviewing another writing couple. )
Learn more about Chella on her website. (Below is a photo of her, as well as the image used on her book cover.)
And here’s a quick tidbit: Barry and I are writing a book to go along with our podcast! It’s going to be at least a year down the road, but it’s really neat to see what you think and know about a topic when you sit down and try to capture it.
We’re working on this project not only to do something as a couple, but because we want to help writers, especially MFA grads, our peers, get their work out there, build their careers, and leave the legacy they want.
We’re in the REALLY early stages of it, and we’re hoping to take it to the beach soon and hash out just what we want it to look like when it grows up.
I’m bringing up my third novel along with this newest project, but I’ve learned how to be patient with my writing. You might remember that I said this novel is a literary mystery. It still is, though it’s also a campus novel. So can a literary mystery be a campus novel, or did I just invent something? 🙂
It might appear that I’m going backwards, because I trimmed it back to 30K words, which is 116 pages. And I have barely touched the mystery portion. I fear this is going to be a LONG one!
One thing that was really cool today is I remembered a line from a poem I wrote nearly twenty years ago but never used. (I don’t write much poetry; the stuff scares and awes me too much.) I have (for now) put the line in my novel.
Enough about me.
Tell me how your summer has been. Tell me what you’re reading. Tell me what you’re writing, if you write. Tell me everything.
The old sign is down. I choose to see this as hopeful, because it means something new is coming. Can’t lie, though, my heart hurt when I saw these columns minus the sign to the former coffeehouse.
P.S. I only said that about painting a door or cleaning a fence because instead of writing, I have been making over the house. LOL. I did not in any way mean to imply that his music is only slightly better than household chores.
The celebration of my newest book baby, Southern-Fried Woolf, was held on April 29, even though it’s been out a few months now. It featured that promised reunion of Shilo, the Indiana country band of regional fame that my husband was in fifteen years ago.
Almost immediately after the show, I came down sick with bronchitis. I’m just now on the mend.
I say that to say why I haven’t posted any pics over here, and why I’m not posting much more than that now. I woke up with a bit of energy today, but that’s quickly disappearing. But I am feeling much better.
So many thanks to, first of all, the former members of Shilo, especially my husband, Barry Drudge (lead guitar) and his former bandmate Randy (B.B.) Blankenship (bassist) who took care of most of the details of the Shilo Reunion. Thanks, B.B.!
Other band members extraordinaire, in no particular order because they ALL rock: Staci Riley (lead vocals), Brandon Gerber (lead vocals), Mike Stoner (guitar), Travis Gow (fiddle), and Doug Chopson (drums). It was great to hug on you all and listen to those songs that filled my mid 00’s. Thanks, y’all! I am in awe of you! More, more, more!
The Post was PACKED and only allowed in those with reservations. (Shh…some people sneaked in the back door. It was SRO all evening.) Thanks to those in attendance: family, friends, and Shilo fans of days of yore whose faces were familiar to me even if I didn’t know your names.
I met so many cool people and signed way more books than I expected to. And I wore (for the first and probably the last time) a fringed vest I bought for the occasion, channeling Daisy Jones. It was fun for the night.
I also created stickers for my book commemorating the night. If you were there and didn’t get a sticker on a book you purchased, LMK and I will get one to you. I can’t overstate what it meant to me, having this novel, this little freak of an experiment of mine, get so much love. (Other cool things have happened for it too outside of that night, but I’ll share that later.)
And seeing and re-experiencing this talented group of musicians was all I could have asked for and more. (Hint: rumor has it that I might have started something – there *might* be a spring reunion concert coming for the band. But you didn’t hear that from me. This one has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the adoring fans who apparently can’t get enough. Not that I blame them.)
I was incredibly honored to be a guest fiction editor for The Louisville Review’s fall/winter 2022 issue, available now. Please consider supporting this journal that has provided publication for so many stories over the years, including my first published fiction back a decade or so ago. The quality of material in it is top notch, and I really enjoyed reading through the submitted stories. You won’t be sorry that you subscribed!
Also, Southern-Fried Woolf advanced to the short list of the 2022 Somerset CIBAs, an honor as well. I received a sweet message today from a recent reader of it telling me that she enjoyed it, too, which means just as much, of course. (She also told me to hurry up and write another book; I’m trying, friend. I’m trying.)
You remember that I told you the café I have written from nearly daily is closing permanently? Last Friday, as Barry and I sat at a table during its remaining open moments, the owners brought this teapot over and handed it to me. “For me?” They nodded. It took a moment for me to be able to thank them without crying with gratitude. It’s the teapot that had been bought just for my use at the café by the former manager, because I’m a big tea drinker.
I received so many sweet hugs and condolences that day, as if I alone am losing something. It’s a loss for the whole community, not just for me. After fifteen years, it’s a blow. It’s taking some getting used to, but I’m managing.
There are many advantages to working from the library now, among them bringing home a bag stuffed with fresh books and being able to sidestep the tempting brownies that the café used to make (the secret ingredient was black beans, I now feel free to say). My new writing desk arrived today, a portable one so I can take it with me to write outdoors. I’m staking claim to the gazebo at our local library as soon as the temp tops 60 degrees.
Chances are, someone will buy the coffeehouse and I could be back at my post soon. It’s cute, it’s turnkey. I just hope the new owners, when they come along, will welcome those of us who like to linger. I, for one, am not finished watching the Japanese maple in front of it grow, or the squirrels who annually hide walnuts under it. I wonder if they ever forget where they put them.
Here’s a highlight from our weekend: Checkered Past, the band Barry is in, played last night, and despite the bad weather, there was a pretty decent crowd. Friends of ours showed up and we laughed and danced and were mesmerized by Barry Drudge, guitar god, and his bandmates, as always. (How have I been married to this guy for over thirty years and am still in awe of his chops?)
Only one more day of celebrating my virtual book tour left. If you’d like to win a copy of my book or a bookshop.org gift card, go here.
Quick note: the café where I write is indeed closing. There are seven more days to visit it, and I told them I will be here every day until they close. I have been deeply mourning it. When I came into the shop for the first time after hearing the news, I burst into tears. I have been making arrangements with many of these wonderful people, both staff and customers, to meet up elsewhere in the future. I’ve invited many of them to my hubby’s gig in town over the weekend so we can connect further. (Don’t tell him, but I think there’s going to be a nice crowd.)
“I’ll be at the library most days. Let’s meet there,” I say. I’ve been doing online shopping for an outdoors desk. Some of us are talking about possibly renting a communal workspace uptown. If my café friends work at a business in town, I am pledging to stop in more often to see them. We are exchanging phone numbers for texting.
I will likely post more about this in the coming days. For now, I’m inundating my poor daughter and husband with my sorrow. I just pledged to my long-suffering family that I will try to buck up and deal. One thing that’s helping is doing my taxes and seeing how much I’ve spent at the café this year. Have mercy!
Okay, back to today’s post.
My family’s time in Nashville wasn’t primarily for music. We were just living our lives and musical opportunities presented themselves from time to time. In fact, Barry was in constant contact with a Grammy-winning artist and didn’t say a word about being able to play guitar until the man needed a guitar player and asked if Barry knew anyone. He just happened to, and he worked with the guy weekly after that. The guy announced publicly that there was a guitar god in his midst that he hadn’t even known about. 😉
Though Barry never indicated for a moment that he regretted the opportunities he turned down because he had a family, I felt it for him. That’s why the moment our kids were old enough and he had an audition opportunity, I insisted he take it and tried not to complain when he was gone most weekends with the band.
He also had so many other memorable opportunities to meet and/or work with musical icons and legends, though often behind the scenes. Sadly, that was just before cell phones had cameras, for the most part. And he’s never been much of a fan of taking pics with notables. I like that about him.
One opportunity that came about just because we were in the right place at the right time was being asked to be in the choir for a videotaping of country gospel artist Ann Downing’s video. Barry and I sang in the choir, and our son was included in the children seated around Ann while she sang her best-known song, Jacob’s Ladder. Our daughter, a teen, and her friends were drafted to keep an eye on the younger ones and teach them the song behind the scenes. (Though knowing some of those kids, those teens trying to keep them in line were the true stars of the day! I think our daughter was in the audience during the song with the children, but I can’t find a frame with her in it. Rats.)
Musical anyway, our son had come prepared. He was seated in a new shirt and fresh haircut in the circle with his friends and other children he had never met. Not old enough yet to be shy, he clapped and sang along as instructed. You can tell he’s enjoying himself.
What wasn’t scripted was Ann holding the mic out and letting Zack sing a line! Our son had an unanticipated solo! Here’s the link, if you’d like to watch. (He’s at just after the five-minute mark. And alas, it’s a grainy copy.)
Oh, and there I am in the choir in all my dark-haired glory (!) with Barry to my left. (He also had a fresh haircut and was not keen on it. I think he looks cute.) Our positions might have shifted during the six hours it took to record this special. I’m not sure, but it feels like we were moved from time to time. It was a LONG day, and I was wearing heels. Yikes! We were told to sway and smile. Sure, sway and smile for hours in heels. No worries.
Who knew the clip would become a family treasure, something we share with every girlfriend Zack brings over just to “embarrass” him. (Don’t tell him, but I think he kinda likes it. If you have some good vibes to send his way right now, please do…)
When Barry asked Ann afterwards why she picked Zack, she said “Because he knew the song.” I also think it’s because he’s adorable and he sings in pitch with a nice tone, which she had surely heard during rehearsal. It was a moment of triumph for him, and it warms my heart seeing it again today.
May you always have a special place that makes you feel warm and cozy. And may it never close.
I’ve already mentioned this book a couple of times, so you know I enjoyed it. Here’s my official take.
Radical Woman, a Künstlerroman about artist Gwen John, also sculptor Rodin’s long-time lover and model, captivates.
This book by Maggie Humm, Woolf scholar and author of Talland House, is told in the heat of first person, present tense. Humm dives right into the passion of the artist for art and love. John’s yearning and desire for Rodin throughout speaks to the hunger to create art and to be near one who creates art worthy of emulation.
Once Rodin appears in the novel, his shadow looms, whether he’s in scene or not. One gets the feeling that John’s obsession with art is married to her obsession with Rodin. As an astute friend of hers tells her late in the novel, “Art is your true calling. Not modelling for Rodin.” He then qualifies this by saying that it’s equally important that she experiences love, something he sees as needing to be learned. These themes twin throughout the work.
John also exhibits considerable physical hunger for others both before and during her relationship with Rodin, as does he. It’s not his body she minds sharing so much as his attention.
While John’s commitment to her art fluctuates temporarily as she negotiates her relationship with Rodin, ultimately she never loses her devotion to either.
Humm is to be congratulated on highlighting the art of a woman too often relegated to the category of “lover of a famous man.” Fans of passionate, earthy historical fiction about the arts and those who want to understand the inner workings of a relationship between artists with its unique set of rules will devour this novel.
P.S. That it’s in first person, present, reminds me of my first novel, Victorine. Oh, and I guess Southern-Fried Woolf is likewise first, present. But it’s not about an artist. You should still consider reading it. 🙂
The sweetest thing happened the other day. I was writing at the café when the manager came over to me. “I just got an email from a friend of yours from Nashville who wants to buy your book. He says he doesn’t like to order things off the internet and wants us to mail him one.”
She told me to come read the email. It was from a friend of mind, indeed. I told her I’d reach out and tell him I’d gladly send him an autographed copy myself. So I sent him a message, and he said he just thought it would be a fun surprise for me if he ordered it directly from the shop. Isn’t that thoughtful? The nicest thing about it was we were able to do some catching up.
Now on to last Friday’s excellent wine and chocolate tasting!
Knowing that Barry’s weekends on either side of Valentine’s Day were booking up, we signed up for a spot on the wine and chocolate tour at a renovated hotel in a nearby town for this past Friday night. We were glad to see that we could sign up to an early tasting and then move on to dinner, since we knew he had a late-night gig the next night an hour and a half away.
Here’s a list of the evening’s wine and chocolate offerings.
While we waited for the tasting to begin, we admired the framed vintage Valentine’s Day cards in the hotel lobby.
The tour began in the lobby with two “stops” where a knowledgeable young man explained the wines thoroughly to us after I confessed that I don’t know much about wine, and I don’t remember anything he said except one of them was sweet and I really liked it and one of them was sparkling.
Of course each “glass” poured was really only a fraction of a glass, and I am grateful for that. While I enjoyed the taste, by the last few stops I had had enough alcohol. In fact, they were offering a whole glass at a discounted price at the end of the tour, and I emphatically told Barry that I did not want one sip more.
The tour continued in a room just off the lobby, and then onto the second-floor mezzanine, where we had a fun conversation with the bartender. The last stop was upwards just as the sun set, to the uppermost floor where we were treated to the final three servings of wine and chocolate and a gorgeous view.
Standouts of the night for us were the Kopke 20 Year Tawny Port paired with milk chocolate salted caramel and the Paul Laurent Brut Reserve coupled amusingly with the conversation hearts. A no for me was the banana cream pie liqueur. I took a tiny sip and gave mine to Barry. The tasting was fun, and I would do it again, but as I said, I had had more than enough wine by the end of the tour. (And just enough candy, I would say. We almost bought some of the salted caramel to bring home, but those pesky health goals.)
After the tasting, we had a reservation at their restaurant for 6:30. It turns out the restaurant offers midwestern favorites that are dressed in business casual at affordable prices. We were seated in the elegant yet comfortable restaurant decorated with posters of Indiana specific scenes and a generous carafe of water, something I always appreciate. From my vantage point, I could see straight across the street at the theater which offered two movies that night, neither of which appealed, which is too bad since I really enjoy going to the theater.
I asked the server, Cass, what her favorite dish was, and it was the mac and cheese with spinach, which sounded perfect after all of that wine. (If you’ve never been to a particular restaurant before, a good trick is to ask the server what their favorite dish, because they won’t steer you wrong. It also endears you to the server, which is never a bad thing.) I also spotted “whipped potatoes” on the menu. You can’t fool me – that’s code for mashed potatoes. I confess, I have an unnatural fondness for mashed potatoes. I ordered a side of them and wasn’t even a little bit embarrassed that my meal looked as if it could have been ordered from the children’s menu. The portions were certainly not child sized.
Barry had the meatloaf wrapped with bacon smothered with a tomato sauce and a side of veggies. It tasted much better than it looks in the picture. As I said, very midwestern, but it felt right and tasted good. Or maybe that was the alcohol I’d just had doing the critiquing. The meal also came with run-of-the-mill salads and freshly baked bread sticks and olive oil.
As we were leaving, I was delighted to find posters of the Indiana dunes tucked away in a corner!
It was a really pleasant evening and I’d do it again. I’d say that our early Valentine’s Day 2023 was a success.
When I told my daughter that I feel freer having this novel out in the world, no longer struggling to decide what it wants to be because it just is, she asked what I feel freer to do now.
What a marvelous question! I told her I want to think on that.
Obviously, novel number three is already in motion, so that’s one thing. An acquaintance asked me today at the café what I’m working on, and I told him that I’m learning how to write a riddle for my literary mystery. That’s a skill I hadn’t counted on having to acquire.
Oh, and then there’s time and energy for fitness once again. As I told Mia (the daughter), I’ve moved to the “big girl bike” at the gym. Gradually, I’m getting better on it, and I’m feeling great, which is the best part.
I feel absolutely no pressure to finish this next novel right away. I want to enjoy the journey in a way I struggled to do with the last book.
With Southern-Fried Woolf, I wanted someone to guide me every step of the way, to read drafts and tell me what worked and what didn’t. I wanted to bounce ideas off someone regularly so that I wouldn’t spiral off in the wrong direction. I wanted a trusted eye, an editor of sorts, to help me do something I wasn’t sure I could.
While there were many generous people who helped me along the way, there was no regular, dependable presence. No one to read my chapters and push me in a direction. Which turned out okay in the end. What I learned is, I can figure it out for myself. Even when it’s difficult. Even when it feels impossible. Even when someone else might have a better idea. It doesn’t matter if their idea is better if I never hear it. All I have is me, and that’s okay. Brings to mind the lyrics of McCartney’s “Figure Of Eight.” If you know, you know.
Now if only I could learn to edit what I say so I don’t inadvertently put my foot in my mouth as I am wont to do, not realizing until later what it might have sounded like…my anxiety makes it difficult for me to speak sometimes, and when I do…sometimes….
Remind me sometime to tell you the latest thing my anxiety “made” me say. It’s funny, in retrospect.
I may take the weekend off from blog posts so I can focus on writing. And then there’s that wine and chocolate tasting to attend. And I’ve got a riddle to write, remember? 😉 But the tour continues!
P.S. Today would have been my dad’s birthday, and I’m feeling it. I miss him.
Welcome back to the blog tour. Here’s today’s link. Thank you to One More Exclamation.
In today’s news, my favorite café, the place where I’ve written many stories and parts of both of my novels, may be closing permanently due to ongoing staffing shortages. I’m writing from there today, trying to wrap my mind around the concept of this not being a part of my life after, what, fifteen years or so?
I have a batch of my books for sale here. While I’m not worried about them selling, it feels full circle, and I really like having them here. (There’s also a copy of my first novel in their collection in the back.)
Anyway, did you know that as an author, you have to sympathize with even your most unlikable characters? You have to try to understand, at the very least, why they do what they do. It’s your job to figure out why, and to say, “That makes sense,” even if you loathe what they do.
Let’s talk about Velvet in Southern-Fried Woolf. She’s the country music legend ten years Michael’s senior with whom he’s having an affair. It’s important to remember that the novel is told in first person, so we only get to see things from Briscoe’s perspective. Personally, I have a lot of sympathy for Velvet.
First of all, let’s remember that she left the tour with Michael out of guilt. She knew what they were doing was wrong, and though it meant ruining the tour, she left. Then she tried to apologize to Briscoe, but Briscoe would have none of it.
V. tries to explain things to Briscoe, but Briscoe doesn’t want to hear, at least at first. I can’t say much more because I’m treading into spoiler territory.
Then there’s this enforced stay in a house where she’s persona non grata, except to the man she’s clearly trying to flee her attraction to. She HAS to finish this album or risk losing her reputation, her fans, and tarnishing her parents’ legacy.
And who knows how she feels about Michael? We don’t get a glimpse.
Is V. entitled? Absolutely. However, she isn’t given an inch in this territory. Her husband, Robert, doesn’t even allow her to bring any of her sycophants along. Since it’s summer, she has no college interns, the ones who normally help her out, and apparently she is between PA’s or her hubby won’t let that person come along, either. At any rate, she is dropped off on the doorstep of the house where the album will be recorded, luggage in hand, at a place almost entirely hostile to her.
Once there, who does she have? (I did this on purpose; you are meant to feel for V.)
Obviously, Briscoe doesn’t want anything to do with her. Bernita doesn’t really speak to anyone, so she’s not an ally. Jules, though closer in age to her, isn’t about to side with her against her daughter. What about the band? We don’t see her interacting much with them. Any time she does reach out to Briscoe, she’s rebuffed.
Let’s talk about V.’s appearance. She’s always overdressed. She wears her makeup and hair like armor. She’s stage ready, according to Briscoe, but to me, it just shows how vulnerable she feels that she thinks she needs all of that. And she probably thinks her fans expect it. She wears false eyelashes early in the morning!
Where is she most comfortable?
With Michael.
That’s problematic.
What about her and Robert? While I don’t say so in the book, I think he 100% has a little sumpin, sumpin on the side. And clearly, he and Briscoe are attracted to one another, but she just can’t bring herself to care right now.
At this point, Robert and Velvet have a business relationship more than a marriage, the kind Michael and Briscoe seem to be veering into. The couple has a daughter, Natalie, who is a singer but apparently does not write or perform with her mother. I’d like to know more about that, I think I’ve already mentioned.
Mild spoiler ahead!! You’ve been warned!!
What about the tragedy that Briscoe nearly glosses over? V’s parents were shot dead at a concert, and no one knows why! How traumatic! How horrifying! And V. feels partly responsible since she told them she was fine after her surgery and that they should go on without her until she was all better. Otherwise, she would have likely suffered their same fate.
How has that shaped V.?
We’re told she has a religious bent; I think because of that, she’s doubly tormenting herself for this affair with Michael. She feels as if she has been spared for a reason, though, which keeps her going in the music world, and she fasts, we are told, on anniversary dates. Briscoe sees this as a method of dieting, but is it?
While Briscoe, though she doesn’t seem to know it, has all of these people taking care of HER – Patrick, Bernita, her mother, and Benny, V. is trying to find her way in an awkward place, to say the least. She gets zero special treatment that we see, and it seems as if she endures it because she believes she deserves it for what she and Michael have done.
V. attempts to reach out to Briscoe. She offers her tea and pizza; she sits beside her poolside despite surely feeling unwelcome. (Not that we blame Briscoe. Obviously.) Look at how often V. wanders off on her own, or with Michael. Sometimes I think she just wants to be alone, and Michael follows.
Here’s what I think happened. You tell me what you think.
I think that she and Michael were likely playing some of her parents’ songs together one evening when they happened to be alone. They were harmonizing; he was playing guitar, and that excitement that builds when something sounds good grabbed them.
Then, likely, they wrote a song together based on her and her parents’ music. For her, it was like having her parents back, because Michael was so intimately familiar with their music that he was able to recreate a nuanced version. For him, it was inhabiting a time and place he never imagined he could, performing with the daughter of the man who made him want to be a musician to begin with.
Co-creation is seductive. What began innocently enough became overwhelming and led to more.
Hadn’t Michael’s romance and eventual marriage to Briscoe started just so? She herself says that their marriage must seem like a plucked chicken beside this dream of Michael’s now realized. While she’s hurt and triggered, to say the least, she gets it.
To complicate matters for them all, they HAVE to write and record this album, but when they begin to work on it, it turns out that the illicitly written songs are the ones with all of the passion and power. Something about their physical commingling has brought forth something that can’t be got at any other way.
Briscoe sees this. Michael sees this. Robert sees this. V. sees it, but she doesn’t want to any more than the rest of them do.
Now what?
No one wins if this album isn’t finished. But so many people lose if it is.
What is art worth? What should be sacrificed for it?
I think many of the characters in this novel are asking just that.
Feeling hungry? There’s an interview with me over at A Slice of Cake. Many thanks to Claire for interviewing me. (And why do I now find myself craving cake?? Eh, who am I kidding – I’m always craving cake.)
Let me tell you a cute Nashville story that Barry said I can share.
I mention Gruhn Guitars in my novel. That’s a destination for guitar lovers who visit Nashville, obviously. Barry’s childhood bestie and his children visited us while we lived in Nashville, and of course we all went to Gruhn. As we entered the store, I began counting the signs that said not to pick up the guitars without permission. There were over 20 signs!
As Barry and Jeff exclaimed over the guitars, I told the kids (ours were there, too) to watch how long it would take Barry to pick up a guitar without permission.
(This picture is of the guys rocking out in 2017. Look at Barry’s hair. Hubba, hubba!)
Soon Barry had a 1928 Martin 00-14 in his hands, and a worried salesperson came over and asked him if he needed help.
The kids and I burst out laughing and showed Barry one of the signs. He claims not to have seen ANY of them.
The store has since moved to a new location, so they might not still have those signs up, but I know one guy who for sure didn’t let the signs stop him and might not have if he had seen them.
Another guitar shop that is “named” in my novel is Chambers Guitars. What’s Michael’s last name? Chambers! (Michael is not meant to be related to Joe and his family. The name is merely an homage.)
dremadrudge.com 
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