He seems to be the constant, but with luck, she will leave eggs here.
When I did box turtle research in grad school, we fed them lettuce, blueberries, and hamburger. That fare is definitely not available in the park OR on the bank behind my house. But I hope he is–they are–happy!
Corpse flower, By Credits: US Botanic Garden. [Public domain], via Wikimedia CommonsOne question that non-writers often ask is, “Where do you get your ideas for stories?”
My short answer is, “Everywhere.” The somewhat longer answer is newspapers (especially news of the weird), magazines, tidbits on TV, conversations (overheard and otherwise), photos, books, life events (mine and others’), obituaries—i.e., everywhere. I tend toward the dark and the odd.
The recent blooming of a corpse flower at the Denver Botanic Gardens reminds me of my story “Bunga Bangkai” in Different Drummer. All of the stories in that collection are weird, but this one is extremely exotic and esoteric. It started when I came across a news story about a corpse flower blooming in the University of Connecticut greenhouses at about the same time that I somewhere heard or read the phrase “garden of heads.” The result was magical realism, with touches of animism and number symbolism—a story of the search for lost love and reconnection. Here are the opening paragraphs:
I came to The Huntington Botanical Garden to assist at the blooming of the Amorphophallus titanium—the huge shapeless penis. The other botanists here call him Johnson, or sometimes Titan arum, but I prefer to call him Bunga Bangkai, his name in our native Sumatra. Bunga Bangkai is wondrous. In bloom, the spadix—the penis—is fleshy and red, cloaked by a frilly-edged, leafy spathe (or petal) the shape of an upturned fluted bell, pale green on the outside and burgundy velvet on the inside. He resembles his distant cousins the Calla lily, skunk cabbage, and jack-in-the-pulpit, except that the bloom of Bunga Bangkai is three feet across and six feet tall—nearly eight feet if his potato-like corm is included in the measure. This Bunga Bangkai’s corm–his tuber—looks like a water chestnut and is the size of a small curled-up child.
For this blooming, I have tended Bunga Bangkai since his bud tip first pierced the earth, nearly three weeks ago. He has grown six inches a day and his bloom-time is near. Two weeks ago, we carried him from the conservatory to the garden, to share this rare spectacle with the people. More than four thousand come each day. At home in Sumatra, he would bloom every year. But here, it will be at least three years before he blooms again. Since his immigration in 1935, fewer than a dozen bloomings have graced the United States.
Funny, but reading that story now, I realize that there are ever more corpse flowers blooming in the U.S. and abroad—which I find very gratifying!
Kathleen Kelley stopped by The Hampton Roads Show earlier this week to talk about the festival. Click the play button below to view the interview and learn more.
Suffolk Mystery Authors Festival
Saturday, August 22
Suffolk Center for Cultural Arts
1 – 6 p.m.
Free!
The day-long festival includes mystery, suspense, romance and women’s fiction authors. There will be book signings, fan meet & greets, author readings, workshops, and moderated panel discussions. You can come and go as you please.
FYI, The ticketed, one-hour VIP Meet & Greet has already sold out. Tickets were $15, which included a Suffolk Mystery Authors Festival Swag Bag, refreshments, and an hour with the authors.
Learn More About the Suffolk Mystery Authors Festival
Deborah Tannen has published numerous books that might be of interest to writers. Three titles that come to mind are You Just Don’t Understand(male/female communication patterns); Talking from Nine to Five (communication in the workplace); You’re Wearing That? (mother/daughter habits of communication). They are classics by now, but still relevant.
You’re Wearing That? by Deborah TannenYou Just Don’t Understand! by Deborah Tannen
This has nothing to do with anything except that I really like Eastern Box Turtles and saw this one crossing my street. Fun fact: these turtles are such loners that mating is rare, so to compensate, the female can store viable sperm for at least four years and lay fertilized eggs at will. Such eggs probably aren’t coming to my yard because the bright red eyes (not clear in the photo, so take my word for it) mark this one as male.
Dictionary of American Regional English, Harvard University Press
Somewhere in my public life, I mentioned that I collect dictionaries. I have whole shelves of them, everything from slang to carnival jargon to common usage during the Civil War to books of insults and dirty words. I ordered all six volumes of the Dictionary of American Regional English—and then thanked my husband for his birthday present to me. (Let me hasten to add that I did not buy them new directly from Harvard University Press!)
But there you have it: I am among the legions of wives who, if they want something, must buy it for themselves, and who then graciously announce to their husbands that anything bought in the vicinity of the date (e.g., birthday, anniversary, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, etc.) is a gift for said occasion.
Aside from the true confession above, the point of this missive is that dictionaries are beautiful, wondrous companions. Even if you aren’t a collector yourself, do browse the dictionaries in your local library. Who knows what gems you might uncover? Besides telling you the acceptable spelling(s) and pronunciation(s) of a word, you learn what part(s) of speech it can be, and something of its historical roots and evolution. And as with so many other things, often one good word leads to another! I was once asked what one book I would want if I were stranded on a desert island and I said, “The complete Oxford English Dictionary, full-size print edition.” Technically, this might not qualify as one book, as it runs to many volumes, but if many volumes were allowed, I might have to switch my answer to the complete Dictionary of American Regional English! It sounds that delicious. I can’t wait to find out!
And while I’m on the subject of books, here’s a tidbit for another post of some sort, sometime. Awhile back I talked a bit about a book titled Why Women Have Sex, Or at least, I started off talking about that, until the conversation drifted. Well, in fairness to the breadth of my followers, let me mention MANTHROPOLOGY: The Science of Why the Modern Male is Not the Man He Used to Be, by Peter McAllister, St. Martin’s Press. This book purports to span continents and centuries creating an in-depth look into the history and science of manliness. From speed and strength to beauty and sex appeal, it examines how man today compares to his masculine ancestors. Surely it would be an informative and entertaining read!
I went to see Ricki and the Flash (starring Meryl Streep) and was blown away. She was absolutely believable as an aging rock-star wannabe, estranged from her children. She’s amazing, nailing every role from Julia to Sophie’s Choice to Kramer vs. Kramer, she has bucket-loads of awards, easily found on-line. She and Helen Mirren are idols. I first noticed Mirren when she played hard-boiled detective Jane Tennison on the Prime Suspect TV series. From there to Calendar Girls to The Queen, she—like Streep—never fails to astound me. I have a good imagination. Name a topic and I can spin the outline of a story—gory, romantic, murderous, funny. . . . But there is a huge difference between being able to imagine it, or even write it, and portraying it. These and other great actors have the ability to bring widely divergent characters to life—think Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate and Tootsie. Artists in all their forms are incredible.
Most years we have only one group picture. But at breakfast today Jane Shepherd (seated in the middle next to me) gifted everyone with a Jane Austen tattoo!
Week 2 writers with their tattoos
Here’s a close-up of mine, taken by Foust.
My tattoo
And then Charlotte Morgan introduced us to her Frog “King”–i.e., Elvis. Charlotte is the author of the novel, Protecting Elvis. She worked on that book at Nimrod the same summer I worked on a first draft of “Love Me Tender” (published earlier this year).
The Frog King
Even after the room was empty and the car loaded, we chatted on the front porch of Square House.
So I said goodbye to Jimmy, the man who provided such great food this year.
Jimmy
And goodbye to Nimrod, comforted to know it will be waiting for us next year.
The last day at Nimrod is always bittersweet. All the paths not walked. All I won’t see come to fruition–like this rose in the Square House flower box.
Rose coming on
And the naked ladies are just coming on. There will be a huge display, but searching now reveals only spears of varying heights, rather like an asparagus bed in spring. I guess the summer heat here is recent.
Naked lady bed
Away from here I won’t walk before breakfast. When will I again notice a toad or see a katydid?
Toad
Katydid
But what I’ll miss most is the focus on writing with other writers, discussing ideas, process, and progress–not to mention book recommendations! Of course there is always some of that in my life, but it’s scattered and intermittent.
Nimrod is addictive. One of the writers from last week, Molly Todd, drove over from Richmond for a few more days–and brought her husband!
Molly Todd and her husband
Except for being the last, it was like every other day. We talked writing before dinner, and after everyone read for five minutes. I read three pages from my new novel, developed this week.
Cathy Hankla, this week’s writer in residence is wonderful. She’s been working her magic here for more than twenty years. Cathy has published eleven books–short stories, novels, and poetry–so far. She’s won numerous prizes and is the Susan Gager Jackson professor of creative writing at Hollins University.
Cathy Hankla
Charlotte Morgan, a novelist, is the writer in residence for Week 3, but she’s also the coordinator of the Nimrod writing programs. Anyone who comes during the first two weeks gets a two-fer, for Charlotte gives generously of her insights and support. Her laugh is famous!
Charlotte Morgan
And so I’m wrapping up, having just headed back to Square House in the dark that is so much darker here than in the city.
This picture from my morning walk is just a reminder that Nimrod is very rural. One sees old cisterns, cow pastures, horses grazing… In years past I’ve seen deer, close enough to photograph, but the rabbits are usually too fast and always too small.
Morning walk at Nimrod Hall
The wonder of the morning, however, was absolutely stationary: one of the most notable trees of Virginia. Here I am, standing inside the biggest sycamore I’ve ever seen.
Me inside the tree
Indeed, here are all of the Week 2 writers with this tree.
Week 2 writers with the tree
I will not tell you where it is, for the property owner treasures his privacy. But when last officially measured, it was 33′ in circumference and 105′ tall. This tree is incredible.
View of the tree
Here it is from the other side. I can imagine children sheltering from the rain, or defending the castle. Or maybe the attackers were pirates, for the tree overlooks water, as sycamores do.
View from the tree
Returning to reality–if writing fiction can be labeled reality–I started restructuring my novel. News flash: deciding to do it is a whole lot easier than doing it!
Because we are such an intimate group this week, only one writer was “on” today, Jane Shepherd. Jane writes memoir and fiction.
Jane Shepherd
We were together when I found the diary and scrapbook that launched me into my historical novel. AND she is the one who brought the wedding cake seen here and in earlier posts.
At Nimrod there is a sameness, but always a new adventure. I love it.
