Shopping, Shopping, Shopping

I seem to be behind the curve this year with folks heading into Thanksgiving. The New York Times declared that family gatherings are probably okay, this year, but there will be no grand feast at my house. Covid just doesn’t feel over, yet. Or maybe I’m so consumed with writing I haven’t had the mental space to plan and invite the usual numerous guests. Next year!

I’m also out of sync with late-November shopping. While most of America prepares for Black Friday, or, God forbid, leaving those Thanksgiving feasts early to rush to Target or Walmart before they close, I’m preparing to shop my novel, Deep Roots, Tall Sky.

I’m not sure why it’s called ‘shopping’ in the writing business. We’re shopping for a market? Shopping to see who will want to buy? Whatever, I have this beautiful manuscript, telling the story of the wonderful Mary Prickett in her childhood. Drought. Dust storms. Livestock famine. 1934. And I am shopping for an agent, who will shop for an editor connected to a publisher who will turn it into a book.

Speaking of books and Thanksgiving, my short story, Constance Hopkins, Age 13, about one of my 9th great grandmothers who came across on the Mayflower, is the lead story in the new anthology: Dim and Flaring Lamps. This is a beautiful anthology put together by the editor of Sundial Magazine. Check it out!