March 11, 2023 by D. Wallace Peach

Entering The Zone

I don’t know about you, but for me, the creative process requires a lengthy visit to “The Zone.” If you’re an artist of any kind, you probably know what I’m talking about, surely sense the obsessive urge, the quiver of excitement at the prospect of exploring undiscovered shores. My creative muse resides there, tantalizing and intoxicating, and she demands my undivided attention.

I love each foray into the Zone—despite its consumption of my life. It’s creative gluttony, stuffing my face with words, gobbling down characters, disgorging pathos. When I dive into the Zone, I’m not myself. I’m immersed in my craft, drowning in a taste of pure manna like an addict. The rest of the world fades into the hazy horizon as the Zone awakens that right brain craving.

As a writer, this is especially true during my first draft when a story’s taking shape. Within the Zone, unfamiliar scenes tap from my fingertips and uncooperative characters demand a voice. A fickle wind pushes my plot, requiring vigilance to stay on course. As an adventurer, I’m on my own, trying to make sense of an untold tale before I return to my ordinary life, take a long overdue shower…wash loads of stinky laundry…vacuum blankets of dog hair…make dinner for a gaunt spouse surviving on snack food.

Fortunately, my visits to the Zone are temporary, and I recognize the pattern well enough now that I can plan ahead. “Okay, everybody,” I announce to the family, “I’m heading into the Zone for a few months. See ya.” My eyes droop and I make a pouty face as if I’m going to miss them, but inside I’m giddy as a new mom on a night out. Party time for me and my laptop!

Here’s a typical conversation when I’ve entered the Zone:

Husband: “Blah blah…dinner…blah blah…oil change…blah blah blah?”—long pause—“I might as well live alone.”

Me: “Hmm, what?”

Sad, but true.

With my outline done for the next tale, I’m ready for another jaunt into the Zone. The Weaver’s Tale (my working title) is pure fantasy about a winter that refuses to end. Does that sound familiar to some of you? By the end of February in Oregon, we should be mowing the lawn, not shoveling snow. It’s March, for goodness sake!

Fortunately for us, the seasons still change. My winter’s tale will unfold with spring’s blooming, grow with the weeds in my summer garden, and come to ripeness in autumn. That’s the plan anyway – to emerge from the Zone when the snow begins to fall. Tomorrow, I dive into Chapter One. I can’t wait!

January 3, 2023 by D. Wallace Peach

Happy New Year from the Muse

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Making lists.” I look up from where I’m slouched on the sofa.

“Procrastinating.” A hand on her hip, my muse mugs a dark-eyed, straight-lipped face that fully expresses her annoyance. She’s dressed like a forest nymph with twigs, pinecones, and fireflies in her hair. Winter’s snowflakes cling to her midnight dress, and a white owl blinks at me from her shoulder.

“I’m trying to get organized for the new year.” I toss my notepad aside, and before I can stop her, she snatches it up and starts flipping through the pages.

“You had a sorrowful few months, and I’m sympathetic, but the new year has started, and books don’t write themselves.” The owl steps from her shoulder onto her forearm, and with a sharp lift of her wrist, she sends it up into the cabin’s beams.

She sinks down on the couch beside me, rustles the crimson autumn leaves along her hem, and puts her grass-stained feet up on the coffee table. A pencil appears behind her ear that she uses to critique my ideas. “What’s with all these non-writing items?” She starts crossing them off.

“Not everything can be ignored indefinitely.” My protests slide from her skin, and I shrug. I’ll just tack those items on the end after she leaves. “I have a lot of my mom’s keepsakes to distribute, photo albums to consolidate, and my dad needs more of my time now. I haven’t vacuumed in a month.”

“Pfft. Housework.” She scratches that one out so hard the paper tears. “Just don’t get it dirty.”

Obviously, the muse hasn’t ever lived in a house. “I think a schedule might help me feel less overwhelmed.”

“Fine. Here’s one I recommend.” She rips a page from the notebook and hands it to me. “You get one day a week for non-writing activities. Sunday. The rest of the week, if you’re not with your father, you’re mine.”

I stare at the blank paper as black ink spiders from one corner to the other, creating a calendar complete with to-do items. She’s revamped my blogging schedule, dedicated a half-day for marketing, and blocked off chunks of time to write. There’s fine print along the bottom and a place to sign my name. “Is this a contract?”

“I’m a busy muse, and I’m not going to waste my time with undisciplined authors.”

I don’t argue and sign my name, figuring I’ll try it. She tears the calendar in half, and somehow we each end up with a full copy including my signature. “When do I start?”

*I generated this image using Mid Journey’s AI software*.

“Tomorrow.” She rises from my sofa. Spring petals flutter to the floor from her cloak of moss. The snowy owl wings to her shoulder. “You have work to do on your new book.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Which is?”

She smiles. “The working title is The Weaver and the Autumn Prince. I’ll leave the outline beside your laptop. Happy New Year.”

She winks at me and vanishes in a swirl of snowflakes and white feathers. I study the calendar, vaguely hopeful.

***

Apparently, I’ll be blogging on Tuesdays and Saturdays, with Saturdays reserved for sharing community blog posts and blogger books. Friday is marketing day. Comments are welcome, as always, and I’ll continue to reciprocate as well as visit all the blogs I enjoy.

And best of all, five days a week have a 4-hour slot set aside for writing.

December 15, 2022 by D. Wallace Peach

2nd Annual Cookie Exchange and Happy Holidays

Christmas at the Peach cabin.

This is my first year participating in Staci Troilo’s cookie exchange. Last year, it looked like fun, and despite being a disaster in the kitchen, I’m joining in. It’s all about the laughter, right?

I used to make elaborate, colorful, and mostly-edible Christmas cookies. That was back in the day when I used wheat and sugar in my recipes. There’s nothing like crafting cookies with wheat – it’s like working with modeling clay.

But those years are long gone. Here’s my recipe for Christmas cookies that won’t send your blood sugar levels through the roof. We did end up eating them all!

Keto Christmas Cookies

Ingredients

3-1/2 cups super fine almond flour (used the blanched flour which is lighter in color)

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon xanthan gum (this is a natural binder)

1/4 teaspoon salt

4 ounces cream cheese (softened)

6 tablespoons unsalted butter (softened)

3/4 cup powdered erythritol sweetener (I use Swerve)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

A variety of food coloring

Instructions

Line cookie sheets with baking paper.

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, xanthan gum, and salt.

In a large bowl, use an electric mixer to beat the cream cheese and butter until combined. Beat in the sweetener and vanilla. Then beat in the flour mixture until the dough comes together.

Shape the dough into six or more lumps of varying sizes (each lump will become a different color). Add a bit of food coloring to each lump and knead it in until the color is even. Tip: don’t overdo the food coloring as light colors look better when baked and they make a good background to decorate.

One at a time, roll out each color on a piece of baking paper to about 1/4″ thick. Cut with your Christmas cookie cutters, and carefully move them to your cookie sheets. (Unlike wheat flour, almond flour is soft and tears easily. Just patch them back together.)

Then hand decorate them with all the colors! This takes forever. But kids can help.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees and bake for 12-15 minutes until barely browned around the edges. Too long in the oven will ruin your colors.

Remove from the oven and let cool completely on the cookie sheet so they harden up and don’t fall apart. It’s a good idea to have two sheets so you can rotate.

These are a million times easier to make with a wheat flour sugar cookie recipe, and you can get very elaborate with the decorations. But these are festive, and they’re splendid dipped in coffee or tea.

Don’t forget to stop by Staci Troilo’s blog for links to all the cookie bakers’ recipe posts. There are some wonderfully delicious-looking cookies.

This is my last post of the year. I wish you all a wonderful holiday season full of love and gratitude, good food and laughter. See you in the new year! Hugs. ❤

April 16, 2022 by D. Wallace Peach

A Legacy of Easter Eggs

I wasn’t raised in a religious family though when Easter came around, I wouldn’t turn down a chocolate bunny or an opportunity to hunt for boiled and dyed eggs in the garden.

But what I remember most about the holiday was painting eggs, and since my grandmother was an artist, painting eggs was a weeks-long event.

My grandparents lived with us, and every year, a few weeks before Easter, my mother and grandmother would make pinpricks in both ends of 100 eggs. They’d blow on one small hole, and the egg whites and yolks would exit through the other, leaving a hollow shell that would last for… well, for lifetimes, at least.

A week before Easter, they’d set up multiple card tables and folding chairs and watercolors and acrylics and brushes and glazes and all the other supplies needed for an egg-painting extravaganza.

They’d invite the whole neighborhood for a day of creativity and community. People would stop by, chat, paint, and leave with their creations. Not all of the eggs were beautiful, but all of them were precious. Those are some of my fondest memories of Easter.

I’m the keeper of my family’s painted eggs.

I have about 40 of them, a legacy of Easter eggs.

They remind me of my grandparents and parents, my brothers, my friends and their families – the joy of community. These are some of my favorites eggs, and a few of them are older than me! I hope you enjoyed them.

I wish everyone who celebrates Easter (as well as those who don’t) a beautiful day painted with love, joy, and peace.

September 5, 2021 by D. Wallace Peach

No Town too Small for Street Art

I live in a little logging town in the Coastal Range of Oregon. Almost no one passes through because there isn’t anywhere to go. If you roll into Vernonia, it’s because you live, work, or play here, or know someone who does.

Despite having a population of about 2,300, we just painted the town red. Not with rowdy revelers, but with murals!

I love Street Art. It’s bright and beautiful, accessible to all, and free.

Resa, over at Graffiti Lux Art & More, wanders around Toronto, Canada searching out street art. Her posts are gorgeous and inspiring, and if you enjoy murals, definitely stop by her place. I promised her I’d share my town’s new paint!

The long wall outside the R&S Market (above)

Two murals outside Mariolino’s Pizza and Grill (below). The artists still at work!

Two more walls were just starting to get their coat of paint. So no photos of those.

I hope you enjoyed our the new street art in our small town.

Credit due:

Some of these murals were commissioned by our generous businesses. The others were the result of a the tireless work of Rachael Organ, Vernonia’s Intercultural Committee, and the Portland Street Art Alliance, as well as a grant from Travel Oregon.

December 7, 2020 by D. Wallace Peach

Meet the Muse Wrap Up

Thank you to all the creative souls who shared a conversation with their muses. What variety and loads of fun. We had dapper old men, dramatic divas, bickering muses, muse speed dating, dragons, poets, and monsters!

Here they are in order of appearance:

Trent McDonald from Trent’s World- An Amused Muse, Or So I Hope

Jacquie Biggar – Dig a Little Deeper -Advice from my sardonic/wise muse

Geoff Le Pard from Tangental – Musings from the Kitchen

Suzanne Craig-Whytock from My Dang Blog – A-Muse-ing

V. M. Sang from Dragons Rule OK- Meet the Muse

Ambrose and Elsie from Cosistories – Me, My Muse, And Roleplay

Balroop Singh from Emotional Shadows – I Can’t be Shackled

H. R. R. Gorman – Meet the Muse

Brad from Writing to Freedom – Musing for Moka

Frances from Volatile Rune – (Short) Conversation with a Muse

Greg from Almost Iowa – Speed Dating with a Muse

Pam Wight from Roughwighting – The Specialist

Christine (Elizabeth) Robinson from Before Sundown – Meet my Muses Lydia and Lilly

Teagan Geneviene from Teagan’s Books – Wednesday Writing – Meet the Muse

Jessica Bakkers – I’m Not A-mused

Jaye Marie – Muse-less

Elizabeth Merry from Pink Roses – I do not speak

Jude Kirya from Tales Told Different – Forgotten Muse

Eric Daniel Clarke from EDC Writing – Muse Talking

Dalo Collis from Global Sojourns of Photography – The Ukrainian Muse and the Paradox of Life

Robbie Cheadle from Roberta Writes – AMUSEing and adorable

Julie Holmes from Facets of a Muse – Return of the Muse

Hobbo from Hobbo’s Poems – Muses

Ka Malana from Fiesta Estrellas – Steps before the muse

Miriam Hurdle from The Showers of Blessings – My Multitasking Muse

Prior from Priorhouse – Conversation with My Muse

L. K. Latham – Conversation with My Muse

Kennedy J. Quinn from Miss Liv Adventures – An A-Musing Offer

Chelsea Owens from Chel Owens – Muse-ical Mishmash

Jan Sikes from Writing and Music – My Persistent Muse

Cath Humphris – The Bargain

December 2, 2020 by D. Wallace Peach

Christmas in July

Another quick intermission in the muse posts.

I thought I’d share an idea for the holidays (which isn’t mine).

Missing Thanksgiving with kids and grandkids was a bummer, but the thought of missing Christmas is a heartbreaker. But who said we can’t simply postpone it?

For all those who are struggling with the decision about whether to get together with family and risk illness, or stay at home and pass the day twiddling your fingers in isolation, consider Christmas in July.

As the Grammy and instigator-in-chief in my family, I just set the date and booked a spot for a family gathering. In July.

We’re going to have a feast with turkey and cranberry sauce where we’ll pass around huge helpings of thankfulness. We’re going to string holiday lights around the fire pit and conduct a Secret Santa on the starlit deck. We might even decorate a tree in the forest!

Grampy and I will drop off presents this December, but the true gift of the holidays is time with our loved ones. It will happen. It will be special because we’ll all be in this together.

Stay safe and enjoy the holidays whenever you decide to celebrate them. ❤

November 20, 2020 by D. Wallace Peach

Meet the Muse (prompt)

I’m reading a page-turner in my writing room when I hear conversations below me in the muddy track called “my driveway.” Nobody ever ventures up this mountain besides the solitary UPS driver, and this sounds like a crowd. I peek out the window.

Muses. Lots of muses. What the…?

They fall silent and, as one, swivel to stare at me. Expectant. It appears a decision has been made.

One of them breaks from the pack, and I can’t help but groan. The Mercenary Muse (once subcontracted by my Bossy Muse) starts up the rain-slick stairs.

I open the door and look up, way up. The muse is a hulk, and he smells like a battlefield after a month long campaign. He bares his teeth in a sneer as if I’m the one who needs a shower.

*My Mercenary Muse (aka Discipline). Artwork by Peter Pham*

“Where’s my regular muse?” I ask.

“In the ocean.” He tracks muddy prints on my floor and sits on a granite throne that appears in front of my couch. “She’s trying out your next book.”

“Oh really?” I arch my eyebrow and get a little huffy. “You’d think the author would have a say in the next story. What is she, a pirate or a mermaid?”

“A sea witch.” His grin is disturbing, though not as horrifying as his skimpy little outfit. I wish he’d close his legs. Yeesh. “I’m the Ferryman,” he adds.

My eyes snap up, and I blurt out a laugh. “Oh, no, you’re not.”

“Don’t defy a muse.” He glowers through the warning. “I am the Ferryman.”

“Gah!” I lean into his face, nose to crooked nose, angry enough to risk his breath. “No chance, big guy, not unless you submit to a complete makeover. Otherwise, forget it.”

“You’re the author.” He settles back in this throne with a smug smile and picks something from his teeth.

I wrinkle my face and cross my arms like a petulant… author. A Ferryman? And a Sea Witch? Am I actually considering this? I want to throw up but change the subject instead, “So, who are those muses, and what do they want? Don’t tell me they want scenes in the next book.”

He grunts to the negative. “They want some publicity for their authors, and I told them you’d help.”

My eyes narrow. “How?”

The brute leans forward, elbows on his knees. I’m tempted to hand him a toothbrush and bottle of mouthwash. He ignores my grimace. “They’re going to have conversations with their writers, and you’re going to reblog the posts.”

I tap a finger on my lower lip, considering the idea. The last time my blog friends joined in was a blast. And wonderfully creative.

I extend my hand. “Agreed.” We grasp each other’s forearms like warriors, and I squeak as my bones grate together.

“Agreed.” He lets go and heads for the door. “And I want your plot outlined by the end of the month.”

“But… but I’m not done with my reading challenge and now…”

If looks could squash me like a bug, I’d be plastered to the wall. He stomps down the stairs and joins the other muses. His throne fades away, and I peer out the window as the crowd disperses into the rain. I better get a post ready.

Here are the rules: (prompt now closed)

Post a conversation with your muse on your blog and link back to this post or leave a link in the comments. Don’t have a muse? Just open the door and see who shows up.

No word-limit and keep it family friendly. Include an image of your muse if you’re inclined (with respect for copyrights, please). I’ll reblog all posts received before December 1st. Thanks for playing… Meet the Muse!

July 23, 2020 by D. Wallace Peach

Blogging Kindness

Nina’s Kindness

I started my blog in June, 8 years ago.

It’s seen me through 16 books, and I’ve made thousands of connections. I’ve met hundreds of bloggers I’m delighted to call “friends.”

Is that a hollow word? Not at all. It means that on some level I’ve felt a connection, perhaps brief, perhaps lasting for years, perhaps close enough that if I’m in your city or state or country someday, I’ll reach out and invite you out for coffee or wine.

For writers, blogging is essential, not for sales, but for the incredible encouragement, the cheers, the advice, the shoulder to gripe on or cry on. Bloggers are the ones who pat our backs, offer their time and talents, help us find resources, and support our marketing efforts. We get to showcase our reviews, our covers, our snippets, flash fiction, and poetry. We learn, we are challenged, we celebrate others and are celebrated.

But blogging isn’t only for storytellers, obviously. I’ve “met” artists, photographers, philosophers, jokers, wanderers, chefs, teachers and parents, historians, and thinkers. During these dark days of isolation, the kindness of bloggers has felt especially important. When I want to withdraw, bloggers remind me that the world is full of kindness.

I commented on a post by Nina of Method Two Madness that her painted rocks were beautiful as well as a wonderfully creative way to brighten the world when we so need beauty and light. The next thing I knew, Nina was sending me three beautiful pieces of artwork. They now sit in my garden:

Kindness in my garden

And she added in this beautiful card, which I’ll be framing from my writing room wall – a reminder of the many gifts of blogging and the kindness of very real friends.