I’m so excited! A professional journalist friend, the editor for Jack’s book, Susan scored tickets for the two of us, plus her magical mother and delightful daughter to all go hear Maya Angelou speak in Louisville in April. As a writer, I’m on cloud nine that I’m receiving these opportunities to hear such very accomplished writers speak. First, at Womenspeak 2010 and now Maya Angelou! I’d much rather meet good writers than just about any other “celebrities.” Actually, I do have a well-known weakness for artists of many genres.
I’m missing the Tennessee Williams/ New Orleans Literary Festival in one week. (I’ve gotta see Richard and My Mountain Mama Mamie, and check in with Jack sometime.) But next year, I hope to be in that New Orleans number. It’s been twenty years since I attended, but I still remember the thrill of having actress Anne Bancroft critique a piece that I wrote and read.
Jack is slowly amassing enough finished work for his second book. Mountaintop Mary stands at the ready to scan that body of work in preparation for final edits. Meanwhile, I’m working on getting all my recipes in order to publish my blog as a cookbook. I have a freelance editor, another Sue – Suzanne this time -- working diligently to get the entries in some semblance of order.
As good practice for writing my recipes, I’m participating in a local cookbook project. Coker Creek Elementary is putting together a cookbook as a joint project fundraising effort with the Coker Creek Heritage Group. It’s always fun to see my name in print, even if it is in someone else’s book. I’ve submitted a few recipes, but I know they could use more from local cooks.
My hopes for a Coker Creek Creations’ Appalachian Arts booth at the Jazz Fest have been dashed by a member of their board. Maybe it’s time to research mountain craft shows with my baby sis and soon-to-be business manager. That is, as soon as she returns from her latest trip to New Orleans.
I’ll try very hard to stay put in Tennessee until my trip to see Maya Angelou in mid-April, but if that snow starts to blow, I may have to go. The next trip may be a short one to Dalton, Georgia to meet with the mother of slain police captain and drug interdiction specialist Robbie Bishop. This would (I hope) be a welcome change for Richard – having his wife home in the holler after a day trip for business, rather than every meeting meaning a month away.
I’ve decided, after much cogitation on the subject, that the reason being snowed-in freaks me out so badly is that it feels too much like what I picture as heaven: so soft, so silent – you know like the Christmas carol lyrics “All is calm; all is bright.” I think I want to be in heaven eventually, but I’m certainly not now ready to release my hold on here.