Kay Elam Writes

I don’t want to, but I’m going to take a self-imposed blogging break.

My plan is to finish the first draft of my current novel in June and I have to eliminate all discretionary distractions. Like it or not, blogging is a distraction. So, unless I’m overcome with more creative juices than the book can handle, this is probably my last post for a while.

But, writing isn’t all I’ll be doing during the next month–another reason for this hiatus. My annual tap recital will be June 14th and 15th at TPAC (the Tennessee Performing Arts Center). My tap group normally practices about six hours a week, but we will have extra rehearsals, dress rehearsals, stage blocking, etc. thrown in between now and then. Talk about distractions. We’re doing five (that’s 5!!!) numbers. Last year, our dressing room was two stories below the stage and we had to hoof it up and down the stairs between numbers. I’m not sure where we’ll be dressing this year, probably in the same location–they tend to put the little old ladies in the boonies.

I’ll be taking notes…my next book will have a murder at TPAC. Like the first two, it will be a stand-alone mystery, but the central characters will be the same.

I’ll post recital pictures if after I survive the show.

‘Til then…

~Kay

I love New York — especially in April and May, September and October, and around Christmas.

Hubby and I went up for a junket last Thursday and it was perfect–sunny and in the mid 60′s, while at home in Nashville it was cold, rainy and blah! Of course, when I booked our trip I had no idea of the weather patterns. The weather gods were good to us.

I picked this particular weekend for three reasons:

1. My friend Monica Ramey was singing (with Beegie Adair) at the famous Jazz Club, Birdland on West 44th Street, right off Broadway. This was their third time there and it was sold out! I was like a proud mama!

2. I needed a good birthday idea for Hubby last month. He’s so hard to buy for. He loves jazz. He loves NYC. And he’s crazy about Monica. In March, I told him to block the May dates off on his calendar (in ink), then told him why on his birthday. He just had to trust me in between.

3. I had a Delta companion pass (buy one ticket, get one free) that expired May 31st.

So off we went…
 

Hubby and I have have spent the last week trekking around Nashville with Flat Stanley. I was ready to put him in an envelope with a bunch of photos and mail him back to Bremerton, Washington, but HE wanted to create a notebook about his trip. (Of course he did!) I told him I’d help him with his notebook, if he’d guest blog for me today. Since I said in last week’s blog I’d recount some of his adventures in this week’s post, I thought that was a fair trade. 

So, here goes…

Hi,

My name is Flat Stanley. My friend Trysta mailed me to her Aunt Kay and Uncle G in Nashville, Tennessee, for a vacation.

The first thing they did was dress me in western clothes. Pretty much only the tourists dress like that, but that was ok. I was cool in my boots and hat.

And I got them to try on western duds, too.

They drove me all around town and showed me the sights. We went to Studio B where Elvis Presley recorded something called records. (That’s what old people had before they could download music.) See the reflection of Uncle G in the mirror when he made the picture at Studio B. You can hardly see me, but I’m standing on Elvis’s guitar.

From there we found a photo op at a giant microphone. See the red chicken in the background? (lower left) We couldn’t resist a picture with it, too. I’m teeny tiny next to it and I had to hang on for dear life.

We were in the neighborhood of the famous Music Row, which is really just a couple of streets of recording studios except…there’s this statue of naked muses named Musica at the start of it. Uncle G did a good job of photographing it and keeping it “G” rated for Trysta’s 3rd grade project. I’m in all the photos. Can you find me? My closeup was on a foot.

Nashville is also home to the Grand Ole Opry. Most tourists go there, but I just saw the bus.

Another place we visited was The Parthenon, which was an exact replica of the one in Athens, Greece. It was built in 1897 as part of a world’s fair. The Nashville one is in Centennial Park.

We also went by Vanderbilt University, which is one of over 20 universities in the area. I felt smarter just being there. (Hint: I’m not in this picture.) Trysta’s brother, Xander was born at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital which is near the University.

“The Hermitage” was the home of Andrew Jackson, the 7th president of the United States. Do you see me standing on the sign?

We got tickets to a Nashville Predator’s hockey game. It was way cool! They won 4-3. It went down to the last second.

We spent one day at a street fair where a $100 bill kissed me (yuck). But I got to hang out with a couple of cops for a while. That was cool.

We spent most of the day in the puzzle booth. The crafters were friends of Aunt Kay and Uncle G’s from Georgia and they let me help sell some puzzles. I tried to work the cash register, but got in trouble with Aunt Kay.

My very favorite place at the craft show was the booth where they had custom mail boxes. I bet they had a zillion! It was hard picking my favorite three for pictures. Can you believe this barn, Predators truck, and airplane are mailboxes. They are, I promise! Kind of makes you want to be flat, doesn’t it?

One afternoon I crashed a wedding (but was on my very best behavior). For a while I sat with the bride and groom at their special table.

Their reception was on the 10th floor of a building so there was a good view of Nashville in the background.

Yesterday, I went to work with Uncle G. I had my own lab coat with my name on it and everything!

Today, I’m all packed and ready to head back to Washington state. I’m going by airplane, so  it’ll only take about six hours instead of three days on a mail truck!

We’ve finished my notebook for Trysta’s school project. I hope she likes it. This is what it looks like.

Aunt Kay says it’s time to head to the airport…and for her to get back to writing her book. I wonder if she’ll write about me in her book. Probably not…she writes fiction.

~ Flat Stanley

Once again, Flat Stanley arrived our mailbox.

If you aren’t familiar with the concept, Flat Stanley is a book by Jeff Brown. The story is about a little boy, Stanley, who is given a bulletin board by his father. One night the bulletin board falls from the wall above Stanley’s bed and flattens him in his sleep. He survived accident and learned he could do all sorts of things in his flattened state: slide under locked doors,be a kite, pose as a painting, even travel through the mail. Thus the Flat Stanley project, adopted by third graders all over.

The book was written in 1964. I received my first FS around 1986 and have gotten several since.

This time, my little third grader lives in Washington state. The packet came with a laminated Flat Stanley which she had colored (both sides, no less), a letter from her asking me to take him to some fun places (like maybe the beach–she clearly doesn’t understand where Tennessee is!) and a letter from her teacher. The idea is to take a few photos of FS in the destination to which he was mailed, then mail him and the photos back, maybe with a story about what he did while there.

So…I spent a considerable amount of time dressing Flat Stanley so we could have some adventures. This was the first FS I’ve received that was colored on both sides (the little perfectionist!) so I had to dress him on both sides (the big perfectionist!)  A wardrobe isn’t required–I just do it to give him a local feel.

Next week I’ll share Flat Stanley’s Nashville adventures. Until then, check out some of the other places he’s been and see if you recognize any of these people who hosted him.  

~ Kay

When I was in high school, I learned to pronounce and spell antidisestablishmentarianism. Why? Probably for extra credit…or maybe to be a smart alack. A teacher told us it was the longest word in the English language at 28 letters.

I guess no one bothered to count the 34 letters in supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, a word we all knew from Mary Poppins, and challenge her.

In case you’re wondering, antidisestablishmentarianism has something to do with the separation of church and state.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious means—well, I’m not sure what it means. I know it’s a happy word and the name of a song. Wikipedia says the film defined it as “saying something when you have nothing to say.” Wow! I can do that with way fewer letters.

According to several sources on Goggle (and Goggle knows everything, right?) the longest word has 189,819 letters. It’s the chemical name of Titin, which is the largest known protein. Large protein=large word, I suppose. It’d be a good word to work into a novel if you’re behind during NaNo. Of course, you’d take it out during the editing process. You must take it out!

There’s another word for a different enzyme that has 1,913 letters and takes about three minutes to pronounce. For obvious reasons, I’m not putting the names of either of these enzymes in my blog.

Let’s get back to the real world. What’s the longest word in a major dictionary? Several sources identified the 45 letter word which defines a lung disease more commonly known as silicosis: Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. 

Floccinaucinihilipilificaion with 29 letters and 12 syllables is considered the longest nontechnical word. It means to describe something as unimportant or worthless. I think it’s ironic it takes such a long word to do that.

But the absolute longest word(and my favorite) is smiles – because there’s a mile between the two s’s.

Have a good one!

~ Kay

For some time now, I’ve heard noises in my attic. You’d think, since my new book has a paranormal element, I’d welcome this intrusion. But our house is fairly new, and I’m pretty sure ghosts don’t scurry.

You might recall almost all of the houses in our neighborhood had, not one, but two roofs replaced last year due to storm damage. Yes, insurance premiums went up!

Apparently, there were some “gaps” in our new roof that some squirrels found. They notified all their friends and have colonized in the rafters.

We called one animal removal company in January and their estimate was over four thousand dollars to repair the roofline, trap the animals and do what they said should be done to get rid of the critters. I had a career in sales. This guy was slick. He used scare tactics by telling me though it was currently only squirrels, raccoons or other animals could also move in. I know they could; the squirrels could also pack their bags and move out, but he didn’t mention that. And he tried to upsell. He said if we didn’t do an enzyme cleanup new squirrels would smell the old ones and we’d be in this fix again.  Hummm… what does that say about his repair work?

He did make pictures, which we took back to the roofing contractor who reluctantly came back and fixed the locations in the photos (and only those sites—he didn’t look around to see if there were any other places).

Then we called another wildlife removal company. The new guy found a roofline gap on the other side of the house—sixty-seven feet of gap—which I contend the roofer should have fixed. But I’d rather pay someone else to do it than have to deal with the roofer and his attitude again. The new guy is coming back today to set the traps.

This kid is a hoot. I got the impression he loved his job and probably even plays with some of the animals he traps. His company was more expensive than we’d hoped (about nine hundred dollars to trap and repair the roofline) but I’m ready to get rid of the patter of little feet. I swear they must be having Tupperware parties or something. It sounds like there is an army of them, though my trapper said he’d be surprised if there is more than two or three. He agreed the scent could invite future inhabitants, but he doesn’t think it’s that bad and to really do an enzyme treatment right would mean removing and replacing all of the insulation in our attic—a very big job. He also said they’ve not done a lot of damage for which we are very grateful.

So here I sit waiting for the critter ridder to come set his traps and make the repairs. Let’s hope this does the trick. These noises are inspiration I can do without.

~Kay

http://www.kayelam.com/blog/2012

My sister gave me a tee shirt that says, “Careful. You Could End Up In My Novel” I don’t wear it out of the house much; I don’t want to scare people. But the truth is every one I know, every experience I have influences my writing. My experiences are a part of my subconscious and come out on paper, sometimes to my chagrin.

Recently, I woke from a sound sleep in the middle of the night and realized a character in the novel my agent is currently shopping to publishers had the same name as a real person I knew over thirty years ago. It was spelled differently, but it was the same nonetheless. I haven’t thought of this person in years, but a conversation about someone else in this man’s same occupation earlier that day must have cranked up my memory. Since the character in my book is a bit on the shady side, I immediately changed his name.

Writers are constantly looking for material, especially dialogue. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve stopped conversations to write down jewels I’d otherwise forget. I know this seems terribly rude—and perhaps it is—but my non-writer friends are accustomed to it and just consider it one of quirks. My writer friends totally get it. I have one high school friend who lives nearby, and she’s my go-to person when I’m in a dialogue slump. One conversation with her, and I have enough material to move forward.

I’ll admit when I’m alone in a restaurant or coffee shop I eavesdrop. If the conversation is good enough, I’ve actually gotten out my laptop because I can type so much faster on it than I can on my phone or iPad. Another great location to get good dialogue is the post office. I don’t know why. It just is. I always take my cell phone in with me so I can make a “note” of anything good I hear.

The world is full of ideas. I have to write them down. I keep a master list on my computer. I update it from “notes” I’ve made on my phone and iPad. I’ve even called my home phone and left myself a voice mail when I saw something that triggered a spark. I used to think if a tidbit was good enough I’d not forget it, but then could never get it quite right, if I could recall it at all.

What about you? How do you use the sum total (seems redundant, but the two words are actually a noun) of your life’s experiences? If you’re a writer, will you admit to eavesdropping for dialogue and dialect patterns?

~ Kay

Hubby and I traveled to Seattle last week. Xander, our seven-year-old godchild (with spina bifida) had his twenty-seventh surgery Thursday. We met him and his mom at the hospital for pre-admission appointments Wednesday and got the world’s best hug.

Afterwards, we took the ferry to Kingsport. Xander’s dad is in the navy and Xander’s family lives across the sound from Seattle. It was a windy day, but “Pappy” and Xander ventured to the top deck of the ferry while his mom and I stayed in the warmth of the car.

Pappy and Xander on top of the ferry

We had dinner that evening with Xander’s whole family including his parents, his two older brothers and his two sisters. The family adopted the girls in December after serving as their foster family for over a year.

OUCH!!!

Pappy took lots of cute pictures of Xander after his surgery—most with his treasured Shark, Bruce, a gift from my friend Erica. Bruce went to surgery with Xander and had his own hospital bracelet (around his tail). Actually, Pappy went back to surgery with Xander too–and stayed until he was asleep. Xander wanted him to stay for the whole procedure, but no one else thought that a good idea.

Pappy ready to go back to surgery with Xander

Xander had to remain flat for seventy-two hours after the surgery. The doctors estimated he’d go home after five or six days, but he’s such a trooper. He left the hospital Sunday afternoon–about seventy-five hours after the procedure.

My sister. I’m so proud of her!

And…life goes on. My younger sister is the executive director of a large non-profit north of Seattle. Its annual fundraiser was Saturday night and we try to attend each year. Our guests this year included Jan Bono, a writer who responded to one of my blog posts a couple of years ago. We met face-to-face last summer when I was out for another of Xander’s surgeries. She plans to attend Killer Nashville in August.

With author friend Jan Bono

I head home tomorrow. My trips to Seattle are never long enough to see everyone and do everything. I love everything about the Pacific Northwest—the climate, the terrain, the people. If I win the lottery, it’s where I’d purchase a second home. Maybe I should buy a ticket.

~ Kay

It’s spring all right. Saturday was a beautiful sunny day with temperatures in the 70′s. Yesterday, it wasn’t quite as warm, but still lots of sunshine. People were out in groves–running errands, washing cars, planting flowers—enjoying the fresh air. Today, however, it’s storming and we have tornado watches all around. Yep! It’s spring in middle Tennessee.

Another sign of the season: I’m sick. Or, at least I hope my illness was due to the weather and not the server at a mid-level chain restaurant who coughed the entire time she served us last weekend. At the time, I remember thinking I hoped she had allergies. But, when I woke up Tuesday with an eerily similar cough I had my doubts.

Normally, traditional medicine is my last resort, but I’ve got a big week ahead and needed to knock out any illness quickly. Therefore, I went to the doctor Tuesday afternoon. He diagnosed an upper respiratory infection, gave me antibiotics, advised me to take Mucinex for the cough, drink plenty of liquids, get lots of rest…you know the score.

It’d be hard to know which saw more of me during the next few days: my bed or my couch. I didn’t read. I didn’t watch TV. I slept and coughed. Friday morning, Hubby took me back to the doctor because I was “rattling.” Luckily, it wasn’t pneumonia. I got an inhaler for wheezing, a broader-spectrum antibiotic, a shot of steroids, and something for the cough.

It’s Monday and by comparison, I feel great. But, every time someone phones they say I “sound awful.” I still have a cough, but it isn’t all the time and my throat isn’t sore anymore. I’m definitely on the mend.

It’s amazing how much energy being sick zaps from you. Hubby took me for a manicure and pedicure yesterday and even that wore me out. Do I dare tap dance today? I missed class last Wednesday, so I at least have to attend class. Whether or not I can dance—we’ll see. My doctor said I wouldn’t be contagious, but I’ll wear a mask, just in case.

My brain keeps going back to the server who was sick. Why was she working? What was management’s responsibility to the restaurant’s patrons on a busy Friday night—a little longer wait because they sent a server home or exposing goodness knows how many people to her illness? What would you have done?

~Kay

I just realized I forgot to do my weekly post yesterday. Let’s see, what was I doing? Why did I forget?

Hubby and I spent the weekend out at his mom’s farm packing up the last of her stuff, then met the movers yesterday morning. Pretty much everything that hasn’t been given away was relocated from the farm to our house. Several of the boxes went to a local womens’ shelter–they were very excited. The rest will go into the storage part of our basement when I have time to get in there and organize its contents. I refuse to cram one more box back there, until everything is sorted, labeled, and I know what’s what. So, the boxes from the farm might sit for a while.

Included in our haul were several pieces of furniture including two queen-sized beds. We’d given Youngest Son one complete set of bedroom furniture when he got married and turned that bedroom into a closet–much needed for off season storage and all of my tap costumes. Costumes are now in the basement (poor basement) and we have a second upstairs guest room again. We set the other bed up downstairs where we already had a king-sized bed and a trundle. If I enjoyed cooking early every morning, we could start a bed and breakfast! We have six beds (other than ours) ready to go.

Seriously, the finished part of our basement is as crowded as an antique store. Luckily, we’re only “furniture-sitting” several of the large pieces (including one of the beds) for family friends and our kids. The problem is no one can give us a time line on when they plan to pick up their stuff. Middle Son, who inherited the bed, is in Hawaii and we know he won’t want it until he’s back stateside.

The move went as smoothly as a move can go. It wasn’t that much stuff and it still took five hours. It reminded me why I want to stay put!

The farmhouse is all but empty now. Hubby’s sister has a few things left to pick up. The soon-to-be owners are looking around and thinking about changes they want to make before they move in. The husband is a civilian in Afghanistan who won’t be home until after the move so the wife gets to make all of the decisions.

Here’s one last look at the house, taken from the other side of the lake my in-law’s built. Hubby and I got married on the dock–it was before they added the gazebo. There are lots of memories out there. The new owners have said we’re welcome anytime…but it won’t be the same. For them, I hope, it will be even better.

~ Kay