Today my beautiful lady has been filled with what I believe are gerbera daisies. Cost for flowers, about $20 @ Trader Joe’s.
I had gerberas in my wedding bouquet by necessity and not choice. Unfortunately my April wedding came to be about two weeks after the ranunculus were spent and gone. I wanted ranunculus, because they have a wind-blown look. I wanted orange, and my sister had an orange dress. We both had our dresses made by Kevin Simon, who seems to have vaporized since she once had a very pricey store on Abbott Kinney Boulevard. Kevin made everything in linen, and she was a master of sort of vintage-farm looking clothing, like late 1800s. I loved her work and could not afford any of it, so I splurged on my dress and my sister’s, assuming I was only getting married once. A regular skirt at Kevin’s was over $500. My wedding dress and my sister’s MOH dress combined were $1000. The back bottom of my dress had tulle orange flowers pinned to it. My dress was linen with a silk slip, and my sister’s was orange silk. I’ve since lost about 70 pounds, and I left the dress at Goodwill in Delaware when I moved, but I kept all the organza flowers.
In any case, I do have to say I’m not usually a gerbera girl, except when needs must. But today the yellow (which is a lot lighter in real life) on the flowers screamed, “Butter!” at me, with just a hint of orange at their centers, and so I was compelled. Mixed them with orange and some green greenery, et voila!
The little pumpkin/squash you see there I plan to eat, not carve. LOL. Roasted pumpkin in things is divine! As are these lovely gerbera. Ranunculus are actually not great cut flowers, so droopy.
It is a blessing to have flowers anywhere in the world, of any kind, and especially on my very sunny kitchen counter. Buy the flowers, hold them high, and repeat after me, “Here’s to the times we bless others, and also to the times we bless ourselves!”
Have a wonderful week~
PS. Most flowers I buy last a full two weeks! Just keep the water clean and fresh.
Today my beautiful lady head is holding pincushion protea, safflower, and eucalyptus. When I was younger I was more snooty about flowers: they had to smell, and smell good. None of these really have a smell, although fresh (really fresh) eucalyptus can smell wonderful. Cost for flowers, again about $11 at Trader Joe’s.
I venture to say I’ve almost made it through summer, always a challenge for me as a person who prefers chillier climes. My sister reports that up (up the hill) in Idyllwild where she lives now it has been chilly and stormy… of which I am envious as we’ve had a 90-100 degree heat wave here. It’s been a bit of a year so far, her dealing with a diagnosis of mucosal melanoma, and me dealing with her diagnosis. We’ve done the majority of her doctor’s appointments together, and although I know she sometimes must get sick of me, I really have treasured spending all that time with my baby sis. She was supposed to go visit our handful of a mother, but there were new protocols to try, so that got cancelled. She’s hoping our mother will come to her. I am not holding my breath on that because the mountain usually doesn’t go to Mohammed.
I now present an actual undoctored video of Mama:
Ha!
No, that’s not actually her, but the “everything” about Lucille is pretty close to Mama Pearce. And… if I tease out the comparison… I’m probably Michael in that scenario, who is probably the lamest Bluth. Sorry Michael. I have to tell the truth… on both of us!
As long as I have been a parent I have been worried about my daughter’s summer plans/schedule, because she’s a kid who does better with one than without. She was too old for any camps this year, so we just made a deal: she took an online Driver’s Ed course; she had to make plans with one friend at least once a week, and she did some new and interesting chores around the house in preparation for someday being in charge of her own dorm room or apartment. She mopped, and organized, and did all sorts of things she doesn’t have a lot of time for when school is in session, because her program has days that run from 8-5, but can go as late as 9. She’s joined a teen program at Pasadena Playhouse for the fall, where she’ll begin to get a little real-world backstage experience. And she passed the driver’s ed course. We’re waiting for the necessary pink slip to arrive in the mail, which will allow her to take the permit test (it is a rule in California that they have the pink slip before they take the permit test.).
Anyway, it’s been a busy few months, and I’m glad school has begin again, and the patterns are falling back into place that alleviate some of the the pressure. Is there a mom out there in a hetero relationship whose partner takes on the responsibility for the kid(s) over the summer?
🦗 🦗 🦗 🦗 🦗
Are those… crickets?
Yeah, I didn’t think so.
When life comes in waves of responsibility and busyness, you STILL have to manage to get to the ever more expensive grocery store (wait, I thought he was lowering the prices on day 1…. Good thing none of us held our breath), so skip a few of the overpriced boxes of cereal, or other overpriced things, and make sure you use ten bucks or so to buy yourself flowers!
These flowers I love because… orange, and green, the two best colors ever.
Today my beautiful lady head is holding iris and Veronica. I once saw neighbors rip up an enitre patch of iris and throw them away I asked if I could have them, but they said no because they didn’t like them, so they didn’t want to see them anywhere. Can you imagine? They put in something foul, like geraniums. When I return from the temporary status as renter back to home owner, iris are absolutely in the plan. Veronica I wasn’t aware of until this year, which is painful to admit. They are absolutely brilliant flowers, long lasting, straight and tall with sometimes a graceful curve to them. They’re a real eye-catcher. A friend once took a plant pot filling class, and was told that if you plant a pot you should have a filler, and spiller, and a thriller. Veronica is the thriller. Cost for flowers, about $11 at Trader Joe’s. Also pictured… future Chex mix!
Back when Target was still DEI-cool, I bought myself this head planter. I never quite had the right plant to put in it though, and I decided to use it as a vase instead. I especially like the way the flowers come out the the head and look almost like hair, or a fancy hat.
I buy myself flowers. All the time. I buy them at least twice a month, depending on how long they last. I admit to really loving them and not wanting to throw them away or compost them until they’re really spent. Today I went into my local Vons (I usually get pretty and inexpensive flowers from Trader Joe’s, but they had nothing interesting a few days ago when I stopped in for half and half.), and found these cool tie-dyed roses. I thought they were perfect for celebrating Pride. I’m straight and cis, and a very much in support of Pride, and trans rights, and gay marriage, and all that good stuff. And I love flowers, and fun, colorful, or heavily-scented , off-beat, exotic, just about any kind. (Except geraniums, but that’s a post for another day!)
I just thought these were so pretty and uplifting.
My mother has always considered flowers a waste of money, which seems too sad to me. This bunch of roses and the yellow “filler” cost me ten dollars. That means I’m spending around about 20 bucks a month for a little hit of joy every time I walk into my perpetually untidy kitchen.
Get yourself some flowers and enjoy the color. This is your one life: make it beautiful. Don’t wait for someone else to do it.
I have been taking photos of myself in clothes (lucky for us all! Not naked!) because I love clothes, and I figured I could be brave enough to share that side of myself which you would not know unless you knew me in person.
I also snap a lot of photos of pets, flowers, and, when she lets me, my kid, so the phone gets pretty full. I finally got around to downloading a bunch, and here, for my second (?) clothes post is what I wore back in March to the Atlanta Writer’s conference. It’s a Lucy and Yak Ragan, and my, what are they? Snake? Leopard? I think snake, boots. and some sory of cropped black sweater.
Having been a fat woman for most of my adult life, I often go black in professional situations because it feels safer, cleaner, slimmer. This L&Y Ragan is a USA size 10, as an FYI, so I think I’m down in average size for that, not plus, but I still see me as large, too large, and probably always will.
It was a wonderful day, though, as I had someone come sit at my table with me:
The moment I met Emilie I was in big-time girl love. LOL. Emilie and I are in the same age range, and that’s all anyone needs to know abut that, and she is a person who, the moment we saw each other in person, I felt like I’d known forever. So, even though we’d worked together for many months, to meet her and just hang out was so much fun. Honestly, and I know this is going to sound really dorky to say, but when I work on a book with an author I get really attached to the book, well, because usually I had to likethe book a lot to begin with to want t publish it, and then, because I am a gigantic super-nerd, I am very very excited when I get to meet the author in person. I didn’t ask Emilie for her autograph on her book, but I wanted to. I was really sorry to leave Atlanta. I wished I could have hung out the rest of the week with Emilie. Does anyone else out there feel like there’s never enough time for connection and just fun? Back on the plane, and, that week, home to a huge amount of chaos as an exchange student had come while I was in Atlanta, and the exchange student was a delight, but she was only staying for a week, and it happened to be the same week (the school, IMHO, arranged it badly) the kids the vsiting students were staying with all had all their midterm stuff due, and my chronically procrastinating child was losing her mind when I arrived back in the house, much to the chagrin of the poor the exchange student. So Mom was on immediate duty, and, oh, how I thought back fondly on hanging out with Emilie. Being a mom to my daughter is one of the best joys in my life, but it is not lost on me that when you become a spouse, and then a parent, you are giving up most of your allowance of fun. So you have to get it in where you can. I would love to escape to Atlanta with Emilie again, or anywhere. She felt like a lifelong friend right away, and she’s also an interesting and talented author.
And, I veered a bit off of my outfit, but, what can I say? I’m a veerer.
It’s getting dark outside as I write this, and I have the door open. We live one block off of the restaurant street, and sometimes, like tonight, there are people who are rambunctious in the street. I’ve heard yelling, some fireworks, sirens, dogs barking. Everyone wants to be seen, to matter, to have some attention, and we get squeezed too thin sometimes, and we get loud, when we get a chance to have some fun, to loosen up the reigns. Everyone is guilty of some loud times, but the breeze and the temperature are too nice to allow a little noise to make me close the door. Whever you are, I hope it’s a nice, if slightly loud, spring evening. Sleep tight.
Have you thought about having an edit on your writing project? You can have it on a full book, or a short story/memoir, or even a poem.
What’s the benefit?
A second pair of eyes.
A dialogue with an experienced editor who is focused on your work, and what you want your work to achieve.
One-on-one interaction.
A live Zoom discussion.
And lots more!
What’s an edit look like?
Kinda like this, though every book is different:
crisp clear notes to show you why I am suggesting what I am suggesting, and collaboration that suits you.
How much does an edit cost?
As a member of ACES and the EFA, I edit based on the standard scale. That means I charge a per-word fee. This is because words can be cut during editing, and words can be added, but the price is based on the original word count. Some editors charge an hourly fee, but I don’t do that, because what if I read much faster than another editor? The other editor is going to present you with a much higher bill, and you’re going to pay for that person’s lack of experience and speed. Word count is much fairer to you, the author. The EFA recommends three to four cents/word, and I charge three cents. For that three cents I will do a combined edit: developmental, line/copy, and proofreading. I’m a registered business in Los Angeles, California, and I give you a contract, so you know what you’re getting, and when you’re getting it. I also offer a free query letter if you’re going to send your work out to agents and publishers. If you decide in the future that you want to publish with Current Words Publishing, I hold a spot for you for two years (no obligation) and do not require a second edit. If you choose to self-publish you can hit us up for any tasks you need help with, like formatting the manuscript. Sometimes authors choose to do a small piece at a time, depending on what they have time and budget for. I’m open to what works best for you. As an example, a 50,000-word piece would cost $1500, and take one week for me to complete, but would include free Zoom meetings and a free query letter, and help and suggestions on how to start promoting yourself as an author.
What makes me the best editor you can hire is that I am so experienced. I have spent over 25 years working with new authors of fiction and non-fiction in many colleges on both coasts. I published an award-winning student literary magazine at UMES for four years. As an editor I have worked on a lot of mystery, horror, dystopian, speculative, fantasy, magical realism, women’s, LGBTQ+, erotic, memoir, and short story collections, including the celebrated Echoes from the Hocker House. I studied under Juan Felipe Herrera, Syd Lea, Luanne Smith, Betsy Scholl, and Christopher Buckley, to name a few. I ran a very successful workshop that met bi-monthly for seven years. I run a poetry coop, and a literary magazine, and I have curated, edited and created many anthologies of horror, mystery, and literary fiction. I have also been a guest editor at literary conferences including the Atlanta Writers’ Conference. I’ll be at the self-publishing conference in Atlanta this spring, where Current Words Publishing is one of the sponsors. There are so many things an experienced editor can do that most “editors” can’t. You have to be choosy. And going with one of the large “we have editors” sites really hamstrings you, because those editors are not allowed to become a part of your literary life. They’re only allowed to do the job and move on. I am not like that. I invest in the authors I work with for the long haul.
The new year is just around the corner. January is already filled for me, but I am open to your project any time after January 31st, as needed. Depending on what you need I can turn around a full novel in as little as a few weeks. Some folks just like to have me edit their new work, a short story or a chapter in the novel, as they finish it. I am very open to a collaboration that suits you.
And, once the year is over, it’s over, and we, much to our frustration, cannot go back. So maybe what you need in 2025 is that push, that meeting, that obligation to send something to someone who is going to interact with it, and you. Let’s make 2025 the year that your book or collection becomes a reality. If you’re interested email: dianne@currentwords.com, or choose a meeting time that suits you.
Here’s to a happy, healthy, and literary new year!
Book awards, book awards, do I want thee, book awards? Let’s take a look at three possible book awards. Next Generation Indie Book Awards offers cash prizes and seals for winners and finalists, which can enhance a book’s cover and validate it for readers. Their current promotion allows authors to enter one category and get another free. Popular categories include “first novel” or “horror,” but avoid “general fiction,” as it tends to be overcrowded. Here are the categories that you can choose from for this award.
Other awards to consider include the Eric Hoffer Award (currently discounted by $15): Registration link. Information link. The National Federation of Press Women (NFPW) contest, which often sees fewer fiction entries, is open to all genders, despite its name, and early entry costs less. Entry Link.
Awards are a personal choice—some authors value the credibility they bring, while others prefer to avoid the cost. If you publish with my publishing company, Current Words Publishing (CWP), your book will stand out due to professional editing, formatting, and design, improving your chances of success. Plus, we can add any award seals to your book cover at any time.
Why do awards charge fees? Running contests involves hiring judges, administrators, and PR teams, much like publishing requires professional services. At CWP, we offer high-quality editing, production, and promotional support. Publishing is an investment, and a successful writing career is built over time, not on one book.
On the West Coast, where I am, it’s the quiet before the cacophony. If you have only celebrated the Fourth of July in an East Coast town, or the Midwest, I venture to say you don’t know what noise is. You cannot imagine the noise, the joy, of absolute celebration that starts last week and continues on for days after in a place where there are large swatchs of people from cultures that brought with them to this place a history of celebrating with fireworks and explosions, and an absolute love for their chosen country. And I think we ought to say, whether the United States of America is the country where you first took a breath or the country you came to later, to stay here, or to be here always, is a choice, and so it is the chosen country of even those for who it is the first and only country they have ever seen.
When I was a child I loved the Fourth of July. I had sparklers, and my patriotic clothing, and I decorated my bike, and the fathers and sons of Ridley Park played baseball in the field behind our house, and the mosquitoes chowed down, and we lit punks from the crick to ward them off, and had Pepsi’s in glass bottles, and hot dogs and potato salad to eat, and we wound through the working class streets to the fire department for the fireworks after the sun went down. I don’t think I had any idea that my neighbohood was very much a place where everyone was the same. I don’t think I understood, aside from the notion that some of us were Catholics and some of us were Methodists, how much all the families were just alike, and living in carbon-copy twin homes, and eating the same meals each day, with fried eggs for breakfast, Lebanon bologna sandwiches for lunch, and pork and beans from a can for dinner.
When my mother moved us to the town where her sister lived, the sister who had married the cardiologist, we found ourselves working class among people who were not, among people who were wealthy and never made a sound outside of their houses beyond the sound of their lawnmowers, among Methodists who didn’t have potluck suppers twice a month. Some of the neighbors were Jewish, and I didn’t know what that was until we read Anne Frank’s diary in sixth grade. Some of the kids in my school grade, about eight of them, came from the tail-end of the town, down around the train tracks, and they were Black, and they lived in clapboard houses that had been cut up by floor into apartments so that they could be stacked on top of each other, and the houses had been surrounded by train tracks and truck routes and second-hand stores, and they had a long walk home after school. There was one girl in my grade who was Korean, but her parents were white. There was another girl who told me she was adopted, but she looked just like her parents. And still another friend was Morman, and her mother sent me home from her house when, as all of us played on the trampoline her family had in the yard, I bounced off and yelled out, “Oh my God I almost died!” Her mother told me I was a bad girl, and had to leave. Because we went to church, in my opinion, all the time, and my mother and I sang in the choir, and my parents, my “churchy” parents, said, “Goddamit!” whenever they dropped an egg or spilled something, I did not understand at all exactly what had gone wrong.
When I commuted into Philadelphia for college, on the trolly and then the El, and finally the subway, I could watch the demographics change as I moved from my quiet quiet town closer to the most left-behind part of the city. It was noiser, dirtier, and a lot more people said, “Goddamit,” pretty much any place at all, even in the offices of the school, even in class, or yelling on the subway. Once I was walking to the subway before the end of fall term on a very cold night, and the row homes lining the street had metal sheets over the doors and windows, and one house had a chink missing out of the metal over the window, and I saw a tree inside with Christmas lights on it.
In college I met Rick and Randy, my first gay friends, so handsome, so fun, rommates and friends with benefits, who ironed their jeans (!) and patiently explained to me that sometimes men loved other men.
I could go on with my brief summary of how I learned about difference in the world, but really, it’s not that interesting.
Sometimes the difference has challenged me, and I’ve had to recalibrate my thinking and tell myself that someone who is noisier than I would prefer is still a human being, or someone who tells me I can’t say “Oh God!” in their house is not mean, or someone whose food is comprised of animal parts I would never eat is not weird, and the women holding hands and kissing at the bar where I kissed my boyfriend the prior night are not wrong for their PDA if I was not wrong for mine. And all of us can love this country.
No one owns the flag more than anyone else (except maybe Betsy Ross: seamstress extraordinaire, who is also from Philly!). Yet sometimes I feel like people among us are redefining patriotism in a way that leaves me out. I was so excited for the Foruth of July when I was a young girl, and I still think this country is pretty great. Yes, it’s messy, but all experiements are messy. Everyone who first opened their eyes in this country, and everyone who chose to emmigrate here, is part of that experiment, is part of the tweaking and re-working all experiements go through. And my life was great as a kid in that small working class town, and it is better for each new experience my path through the world has brought me. Each new place, experience, person has enriched my biography, not ruined it because it did not stay static.
The country is in a bit of a mess right now, and that mess, to me, means that something is being worked out, the wheels are turning to make a change. I feel like, given its track record, this country will find its way to a good, new version of itself, even as some of the forces try to push it back to the summers when only the men played baseball in the field on the Fourth of July. As good a time as that was, it left me out. Now, not that I’m a stellar second baseman, but this experiment was begun, all those years ago, by people who wanted a chance to create a place were no one as left out. Of course, at the time, they meant only men, but the experiment was set in motion to see if it was possible to create a place that would have fairness as its guiding principle, as its ultimate goal.
Fairness as a guiding principle? Count me in for that!
Dianne Pearce Writes 