Chapter Eleven and the Murky Swamp
It’s been a week since I worked on the second round edits of Vinehart Farm. Life and sickness stopped me cold, and, to be truthful, chapter eleven wasn’t going all that well. See, Eva was making a point about the majority of males in her town’s government, but when she was challenged to come up with a solution, she ended up asking a male friend for his thoughts. Well, the editor thought that was pish posh (my new favorite expression, and a much nicer one than she actually used) and I agreed. What was I thinking? So, now I’m in the murky swamp, changing dialogue and points of view, cutting and pasting, and smoothing the corners of transition. If I’m lucky, I’ll get through the swamp and tackle the next three chapters before my work week starts on Sunday. So that’s book work.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about trash. Did you know that a good portion of the plastics we toss in the recycling box are not actually recyclable? Every time I buy something that is contained or wrapped in plastic, I think of the huge ships that cart our waste to Never Never Land (aka other parts of the world). We are so creative and smart. Why can’t we invent something that decomposes into useful matter, and use this to house our products? I bet we already have something. I use glass as much as I can, but buying food is a struggle. Frozen berries–plastic bag. Cider from the local mill–plastic jug. Toilet paper for goodness sake–plastic wrapping. I want to be that family on the west coast who have zero waste at the end of the week. I want to live like that. But in the end, what does me in is buying the product.
That’s it for this weekend.