End of July Already‽

Hello, dear readers.

This is more of a Where's Todd? update encompassing my personal, farming, and writing lives. My day job (real estate) has been on hiatus for some time while I heal up from my January shoulder surgery, plus it allowed me to focus on my writing for a bit. But, that's about to change. We've got bills to pay!

The last time I posted anything to the website, or this newsletter, was in April and featured my poem, “Amanda Takes the Stage”. I love that poem, even if I think it reflects a Todd who was a bit more hopeful about our national politics than I am at the moment.

Writing Life

A revamp of Saeculum, my novel-in-progress, took up most of the first half of this year. I had already drafted acts one and two, so my initial effort for the year focused on polishing off act three. After many false starts and meanderings, I ended up zero-drafting the final act. (A zero draft is essentially a narrative outline.) Then I went back and did major surgery on the first act, rewriting most of it from scratch. I cut thousands of words, with far more still to go. As of today, I am now trudging through the second act—the murky middle. After all of that foundational work, I am in a much better position to de-murk the story. I think. I hope.

Writing also involves gaining inspiration from others. As part of my attempt to find focus and that inspiration, I’ve attended two writers’ conferences, a local writers mini-retreat, and enjoyed a week as writer in residence at Weymouth Center for the Arts & Humanities.

The conferences were … fine. I have mixed feelings about conferences anymore. Once you have a bunch of writing under your belt, conference lectures and workshops offer limited value. That being said, one never knows what unexpected nuggets of wisdom will drop from the sky at one of these events. And workshops can challenge anyone to reach outside of that surprisingly small box that encases and constrains their creativity. Workshops can be helpful. Perhaps the greatest value of a writers’ conference, though, is the shared camaraderie and inspiration from those in attendance. Being surrounded by fellow writers, excited about both their writing and yours—those are the people who get you.

The writer-in-residence program at Weymouth was just … wow. Similar retreats and getaways are scattered throughout the country. What they provide is time away from your normal life to focus and write. Think of Hemingway or Stein or Baldwin in Paris. Maybe not for years, of course—a week or two, or even a month at a time. Writer-in-residence programs require an application process, and you are subject to whoever hosts the site, but they are all almost always rather affordable. Their intention is to support the arts after all. I will likely book another week for sometime this fall.

Farming Life

Drought! Just awful. We've had effectively no rain for months. The May pasture flush and its lush growth of grass—so much grass that it becomes difficult to manage—never happened. This year, Mother Nature skipped that rapid growth period. We don’t have a gazillion grazing animals (ruminants), and so we will be fine, but come winter, we wonder at how much hay will be available to support us until Spring. If hay suppliers run out, that could leave us in a pickle.

The good news: (a) It started raining in earnest in July; July is usually a drier month. And (b) no one told our blueberry bushes or blackberry brambles that a drought was on. They produced in abundance this year.

In other good news, one hen decided she wanted to be a mama and is now busily raising seven babies.

Life Life

Recovery from surgery has been slow, but now, as of this writing, I’m at about 90% or 95% of full functionality. I still ice my shoulder after doing substantial outdoor work, but my physical therapist says that she is just about ready to release me back into the wild—rehabilitation nearly complete! Hopefully, I don’t bust this wing again. Otherwise, bad things happen.

Beyond recovering from surgery, a major distraction for the past month-and-a-half have been home repairs. Our home was originally built in 1860. That represents over 160 years of spotty home maintenance left to be passed on to the next homeowner. As you may have guessed, we are not the original owners of the home. We think maybe five families have lived in this house. Each generation has left a mark on the place. The most substantial work, though, has been left to us. Over the years, we’ve performed huge renovations, most of which you can’t see. This round of repairs and improvements surrounds longstanding rot issues brought on by a previous owner’s misinstallation of storm windows. We also repaired one porch and seek to improve another. Finally—because old house—we had to stabilize one of the three chimneys. Super fun; not really, but we love the house. (Don’t buy a historic home unless you are ready to fling endless streams of cash at it.)

A nicer home, but what a distraction. The constant presence of contractors is not very conducive to writing.

Hey, at least I got a bit of fishing in here and there.

Find that focus!