My favorite begonia on a cool, rainy fall morning:


It's dark and cold today. I always feel lucky when I can stay at home on a rainy day. I've always, always wanted to be able to do that. Since I can remember I've worried that I'd have to take a job not being able to look out the window, especially when a cold front came through. I knew there'd be a fight inside of me, an irrational anger toward life, the world, the boss who aborted my freedom of window gazing, of connecting to my real world.
I knew who'd win. Either I stay here and do this job or I go crazy, I'd say to myself. And quit.
I was just thrilled this morning when I woke up and heard the rain and remembered that the weather report had predicted low temperatures.

I was better this morning; better than I have been for the last few days. Windows or no windows; fronts or no fronts: I still go a little crazy now and then.

I went to Nashville over the weekend to be on a panel for This I Believe . I read my essay, answered a few questions and got to meet two other essayists and Dan Gediman, the, a-hem, executive producer of the radio broadcast. Most of all I got to have lunch with Dan, his wife, Mary Jo, and the twins, Ben and Maggie. The twins are 6 years old and just about the cutest two kids you ever saw. They're picky eaters, too. Ben announced to me that he'd dared to try a hard boiled egg for the first time. 

The Southern Festival of the Book has been here in Memphis before, but it didn't work at all. Now it's in Nashville for good. There was a big crowd out on the War Memorial Plaza, but they had sooooo many authors. Most of the panels were poorly attended, including mine.

Here's me with Dan Gediman. I'm the short one on the right.

I've been trying to figure out where I fit into the writing world. A lot depends on luck, really. Hard work and talent are certainly part of the picture but not the whole package. I've been unlucky in my writing in some ways. John Grisham on the other hand has been lucky for the most part.
But when I saw what Dan Gediman was going through with a book that had been on the New York Times best seller's list, shew! and the attendance at our panel I really came face to face with how very hard an author has to work to keep their books alive. Most authors, that is. There are exceptions. I learned that it's really, really hard to sell a book. And it's enormously difficult to sell a million of them. It takes 100,000 to make it onto the best seller's list and people actually will buy thousands of their own book just to get on it.  

Then I started thinking about getting old and how many authors are going to be publishing their first book when they're my age. I don't know. I had 3 whole hours in the car by myself on the way home to think about my writing, my dreams and what I want to do for the next few decades before I croak.

Maybe I should get a face lift or botox. Maybe I should get a nip and tuck. That would work for a while, I suppose, but sooner or later, I'm going to have to face the fact that I'm just getting older.

I don't have the money for face stuff anyway.

Ben and Maggie

They were very well behaved and generally just delightful. I like 6 year olds. I used to be one.

Ben and Maggie's mother, Mary Jo, is employed by THIS I BELIEVE as the outreach director. She's one of the most genuine people I've ever met.  She really made the whole trip worth while. 

 As I was saying, all the way home I reassessed my writing and what I wanted to be working on. I grieved the loss of my Leader column and the people it connected me with. The column gave me an instant audience every single week. (Even though I have to say I don't think that was the best place for me. As long as I was writing that column I couldn't really write about what I wanted to write about). 

I came home under a cloud. No, not a cloud, it was more a boulder. Monday morning Billy and I sat on the front porch and he listened as I told him what I was feeling. Depressed and hopeless and old. There were variations on that theme, but basically, that about wraps it up. 
I cried. 

This is author Diane Wilson, a real fireball from Louisiana. She's a shrimp fisherwoman and she's an aggressive environmentalist. She's written 2 books. I bought one, but I don't think anyone else did. Her book is Holy Roller Growing up in the Church of Knock Down, Drag Out: or, How I quit Loving a Blue-Eyed Jesus. That's hammy old me in the middle. On the right is Melissa Delbridge who's just published a book called Family Bible.

I't hard to sell books if no one has ever heard of you.
I, however, bought both of their books. Sisters unite! Let's support each other.











I don't know what made me think about selling bread at the Farmer's Market. Like most of my thoughts, it came like lightening. Like, POW! ZAP! WHAMMY!! I need to sell bread at he Farmer's Market this Wednesday. So what if it's all ready Tuesday morning. I really don't know what came over me, but I just wanted to see if I could make a little money. I've been looking for a part time job. That'll get you down–lookin for a job and not finding one.

So, I called the co-ordinator of the Market and she told me what I needed to do. Since nobody else made my specific kind of bread she gave me the go ahead. The health department gave me a temporary certificate under the "bake sale"clause. My daughter Martha went to the grocery store for me and made the labels and I went to work.

Tuesday afternoon I made 13 pans of Aunt Velma's whole wheat rolls–mmmmmmm. I got up early on Wednesday morning and baked 12 loaves of bread. I was sooo stressed out and when I get stressed out Billy gets stressed out. His computer wouldn't print and it was 1 o'clock and we were supposed to be on our way. I borrowed a card table and hadn't picked it up yet. I had bread in the oven. The market started at 2. YIKES!

Martha kept telling me not to be stressed. 

Whew! We made it.

I was very glad Martha was with me. She set the table up and while she was getting things ready I ran back to the house to get the three loaves of bread I'd left baking in the oven. By the time I got back to the Market she'd all ready sold 4 loaves and 2 packages of Aunt Velma's whole wheat rolls–mmmmmmm.

We stayed for 2 and a half hours and sold everything. Yeah!