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PRECARIOUS

By Ruth on March 21, 2014

Last fall, a few days before Thanksgiving, our oldest Scotch Highland cow had a calf we weren’t expecting. There was very little snow,

One day old

although it was cold, and the cows were trekking down the hill below the barn to the far end of their pasture. Maybe they thought they might find some green grass. Joyce, the mother cow, had the calf down there, and when the cows came up the hill again, she didn’t know whether to stay with her baby or go with the herd. She went up and down several times, and then Bill carried the baby to the barn. He thought Joyce would follow, but she got confused. She followed almost all the way and then ran back down to where the baby had been born.

Finally, after a lot of running around, we managed to get Joyce shut into the barn and alone with the baby. Joyce is a good mother. We thought the baby would be fine once everyone had a chance to settle down. But the next morning, it was obvious that she had not been on her feet and so she had not had any milk. She was getting weaker.

We called the vet to come and look at her. He said the baby couldn’t stand up because she had a selenium deficiency. That is a common problem in Vermont,

Joyce and her baby

although it is more often seen in sheep. We have mixed minerals available to the cows all the time, but perhaps Joyce didn’t get enough or was too old to absorb them properly. The vet gave the baby a selenium shot, and we began to feed her from a bottle. Joyce would have been glad to feed her, but she couldn’t do anything for a baby who couldn’t stand up. In a day, because of the shot, the baby was able to stand up while she drank from the bottle. Our granddaughter named her Precarious. Her life certainly seemed precarious. The vet said she had about a 10% chance of surviving.

We made her a warm room of hay bales with a heat light in the middle. She got stronger, but it was sad to see how lonely she was. She had us, but only when we came to feed her. After a week, when she could walk, we showed her how to get to the other cows. Bill built a little pen, so she could be near them, but protected. We were afraid the cows might knock her over, although they are always gentle.

After about a week, we opened the gate so she could go in with the other cows

A week old

while we stayed nearby in case of accidents. She was hesitant and afraid at first, but then she must have realized for the first time that there were other creatures like her in the world. At first she walked around, but she got more and more excited, until she was galloping and bucking in pure joy, thrilled to find that she wasn’t alone in the world.

With the herd

After that, we let her out to spend time with the other cows every day, and soon we were able to fix a gate partway open so she could go in and out as she pleased. Now she has a friend, a calf who is about five months older than she is. That calf has learned how to use the opening in the gate to go to Precarious’ room where there is always hay and a heat light. So they spend a lot of time together, and the other calf has learned from Precarious to be very tame. They both love to be brushed and patted. We are also teaching Precarious to wear a halter and to walk and whoa and gee and haw. It’s always tricky to lead the cows to a new pasture, and we’re hoping that we can use Precarious as a leader.

Trying out the halter

Drinking milk

Precarious at four months

Posted in life in general | 2 Responses

A Great Cartoon

By Admin on February 5, 2014

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If You Want To Write

By Ruth on March 29, 2012

“The guys that wrote the best songs were the guys that wrote the most songs.” That was said by the daughter of a Tin Pan Alley songwriter. But it’s obvious, isn’t it? If you want to be good at writing, you need to do as much writing as you can. And there’s a corollary to that—you need to read as much as you can too. That’s the way to find out how other people have done it. Read the things you like best to learn how to write things you will like. And train yourself the way an athlete does. I spend time every day practicing being able to sit down, pick up my pencil and go, before the fear and doubt have a chance to make me timid. I also spend time writing without knowing what I’m going to say or where my story is going to go. I find that when I write that way, I stumble upon interesting ideas that I didn’t know I had, directions I couldn’t have planned for. But that’s what I do. What you should do is figure out what it is you want to write, what kind of writing you want to get good at, and then practice that a little every day until you train yourself. That seems much more useful than going to writing workshops where you write something and then have other people tear it apart. Quentin Tarantino said, “I didn’t go to film school. I went to films.”

Posted in books, writing | Tagged learning, writing | 2 Responses

A Writer of Vermont

By Ruth on March 29, 2012

Until I moved to Vermont I thought I would always be a reader of other people’s stories. But after I had lived here for a few years, I began to want to show people what late twentieth century Vermont was like in all its wonderful complexity. What I try to do is to write the story so that you feel as though it’s something that’s happening to you, that you are there in the place I have described. I take Hemingway as my model. No one would guess that, because my subject is so different. But the method is the same. It’s what people mean when they tell you to show not tell. I try to get myself out of the middle, so there’s nothing between the reader and the events that are unfolding in the story. That’s what Hemingway did. He said that after you finish reading, you feel “that all that happened to you, and afterwards it all belongs to you, the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was.” That’s what I try for.
I sent THE SIMPLE LIFE out to agents and to publishers and got no response. I sent it out perhaps fifty times, and I probably should have sent it out five hundred times. I stopped when an agent said that I would never find a commercial publisher unless I had a book that would sell 50,000 copies. Clearly a quiet book about rural Vermont wasn’t sensational enough to do that. A small university press might have taken it, but I was afraid the book would have to be changed in ways I didn’t want it to be changed, and I knew small presses hardly ever had budgets for marketing. So I decided to publish it myself, not with a vanity press, but through a company that Bill and I started for that purpose. If we had realized how much more difficult it is to market a book that is self-published, we might not have taken it on. But we made a beautiful book, so I guess I’m glad we did it. And we did all right. We sold more than a thousand copies and came close to getting our money back. So when I finished ORDINARY MAGIC, we never really considered publishing it any other way. But by that time, there were e-books on the scene, and it was much harder to sell print books.
I feel as though I have learned how to do every step in the making of a book, from the writing to the distribution. There is one thing I still need to learn, and I hope I can, and that is how to get people’s attention for my book. Everyone who reads my books seems to like them a lot, but how can anyone read them if they don’t know about them? Almost all reviewers have a policy of never reviewing self-published books. There is one wonderful exception—Vermont. I have gotten great reviews in lots of Vermont newspapers and in Vermont Life Magazine. It’s just one more example of the independent-mindedness of Vermonters. It’s one of the things I love about Vermont and one of the reasons I want to write about it.

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Free Books

By Ruth on December 24, 2011

Cover Photo—THE SIMPLE LIFE Would you like a free copy of one of my books? I want to get them in the hands of readers, so I have decided to send them to people who would like to read them. I haven’t decided how many to give away. I’ll decide that later.
I published THE SIMPLE LIFE in 2006. It was distributed by Baker and Taylor and by Amazon. I put it out at the end of January, and by May so many books had sold that I had to get more printed. During the summer I got a contract with another distributor that sounded wonderful. It was Buck 'n Ben an exclusive contract, so I had to stop selling books through Baker and Taylor and Amazon. That contract turned out to be a disaster, and I was left with most of the books I had printed the second time. Still, it looked as though I was getting close to breaking even.
I finished ORDINARY MAGIC and published it in 2009. Seeing how successful I had been with THE SIMPLE LIFE, I had two thousand books printed. (It’s much cheaper per book if you get a lot printed at once.) But by that time, everything in publishing had changed. People weren’t buying books the way they did just a few years before.
So here I am with an attic full of books. Well, it was never about the money anyway, but I would like to get my books into the hands of people who would read them and perhaps be moved by my stories.
Would you like a copy of either THE SIMPLE LIFE or ORDINARY MAGIC? Send me an e-mail with your address, and I will send you whichever one you would like to read. If you read that one and want to read the other, send me another e-mail, and I’ll send you the other one. It’s as easy as that. If you are pleased or grateful, you can return the favor by putting a comment on my website about the book, and especially what you liked about it. Maybe your comments will inspire someone else to ask for a free book. You could give the book to someone who would like to read it. You could tell your friends to e-mail me and ask for their own copies of my books.
I write because I love to write, and because I want to describe the world I live in and share it with other people, the beauty and the pain and the joy that is around me. I never set out to become well known or to sell a lot of books or even to turn a profit. Considering how hard I worked on writing and rewriting and how many years it took me to produce two novels, it would be pretty silly to think in terms of making any profit at all. So send me an e-mail and ask for a free book, no strings attached. I would love you to have my books.

Posted in books, marketing, writing | Tagged books, marketing, publishing, writing | 4 Responses

A Good Chicken House

By Ruth on November 21, 2011

The Chicken House

Our chickens live in a discarded ambulance. It’s the body of the ambulance mounted on a flatbed trailer, so we can move it. We move the chicken house (with the chickens inside) into the vegetable garden in the late fall when the garden is finished for the year. The chickens spend the winter there, scratching up insects, eating the last vegetables, and fertilizing the garden for next year. In the spring we pull them to a shady spot behind our house. They like to hang out under the raspberry bushes when it’s hot.

Fresh Eggs

It’s the best chicken house we have ever had. It has electricity. It’s quite warm in the winter. The chickens roost and lay their eggs in the little cubbyholes where the medics used to keep their medicine.

Inside the Chicken House

We don’t put a fence around our chickens. They can roam wherever they like in the daytime. At night we shut them up inside the house. That doesn’t protect them from all predators, but it does help. The dogs keep predators away too. It’s a pretty nice life for a chicken.

Posted in country life | Tagged chickens, farming | 2 Responses

An Idea of How to Publish a Book

By Ruth on October 14, 2011

View from the Porch

I published both of my novels myself. I don’t mean that I hired a vanity press. My husband, Bill and I did it by creating a publishing company of our own. We hired a designer and a small press, and they contracted out the job of printing the books. By following the instructions in a book called The Self-Publishing Manual, I managed to get the necessary copyrights, Library of Congress numbers and ISBN numbers that the books needed. The books are beautiful. It was expensive, but we sold enough copies of The Simple Life to get our money back. Since then, the publishing business has changed so much that we haven’t done nearly as well with Ordinary Magic. (There is more information about this venture on my website under Bar Nothing Books section.)
However, I made two serious miscalculations. The first was that I thought the book wouldn’t be perceived as a self-published book if it was produced by its own press. The second mistake was just as dumb. I had no idea how important and how difficult the marketing part would be. So, although I’m not sorry I did my books the way I did, I couldn’t recommend that anyone else take the same route. But it doesn’t matter how you publish your book, if you aren’t a celebrity, you still have to learn how to do your own marketing.

Apple Tree

The other day I had an idea of a much more sensible way to publish a book. When the book is finished, get it done by a print-on-demand publisher. I don’t think it’s very expensive. The publisher, if it is a reputable one, would get the ISBN and copyright and other numbers the book needs to have. Then get the book produced as an e-book for the Kindle, the Nook, and whatever others are around, because that’s where the sales are these days. After that, I would concentrate on internet marketing. Later on, when the book has got a large enough audience, it might make sense to do a beautiful hardcover version.

Posted in books, marketing | Tagged marketing, publishing | 6 Responses

Reading To Mother

By Ruth on October 7, 2011

Mother has always loved to read more than anything else. That’s not surprising since she is the daughter of Max Perkins, the book editor who published Hemingway and Wolfe and Fitzgerald. He said, “Nothing is as important as a

Max's drawing of Mother reading

book can be.” About ten years ago, Mother’s eyes began to fail from macular degeneration. It was the thing she was most afraid of. She was eighty-six. She tried to keep reading with all kinds of complicated magnifying glasses, but the day came when she couldn’t read at all any more. You never go completely blind with macular degeneration, but it’s a cruel disease, because you can only see out of the edges of your eyes. In the center what you see is a gray film. So you can’t see anything you really want to see, only a glimpse of what’s off to the side, in other words, what you aren’t really interested in looking at.
Mother listened to audio books, but about six years ago I began to read to her over the telephone every afternoon

Mother when she could still see

for an hour. Both of us love it. We have read hundreds of books together, all her old favorites, War And Peace, my novels, lots of memoirs and histories. We have read all of Thor Hyerdahl’s books several times. She says she likes to hear about people doing adventurous things because she knows she isn’t going to have any more adventures. Once we got interested in the Mississippi River and read Mark Twain and everything else we could find about the river.
Sometimes we stop and talk about what we are reading. Sometimes when we are reading one of her old favorites, she will say the next sentences before I can read them to her. Sometimes she makes surprising comments. We read Alice In Wonderland and then Through The Looking Glass. She said, “Looking Glass isn’t nearly as good as Wonderland. He was trying to do the same thing over again. It’s forced.” Well, she’s Max Perkins’ daughter, after all. Now at ninety-six, her memory isn’t as good as it was. But she doesn’t forget the books she has always loved so much.

Posted in books, relationships | Tagged family, health | 18 Responses

Is The Score Even?

By Ruth on September 18, 2011

On a beautiful May evening last year, the beaver dam in Adamant village broke open letting a wall of water pour through the town. It destroyed the road and flooded the basement of a woman’s house, ruining her furnace.

The Flooded Beaver Dam

There are two ponds, one on each side of the crossroads that is the center of the village of Adamant. On the south is Sodom Pond, a lake at the end of its life. Silt has built up until it is only about six feet deep. Some day in the not-too-distant future, it will be swampy, dry land. On the north side of the village is the Upper Pond, a wide expanse of water, for the most part, only a foot or two deep. It’s a pond at the beginning of its life. It used to be wetland, until the beaver built their dam. Even though it’s only a few feet deep, the water spreads out over about thirty-five acres. That means the beaver dam is holding back an enormous amount of water. An estimated two million gallons rushed

The Village After The Dam Broke

through the middle of town when the dam broke. The town road crew worked long hours to put the road back together, but the beaver worked even harder to rebuild their dam. For a few days they were all working side by side. There was talk about how the beaver should all be killed, even though more beaver would certainly move in to take their place. The people in the Agency of Natural Resources put two beaver baffles in the dam to keep the beaver from raising it as high as it had been before. Then at the end of August this year, Irene dumped a huge amount of water on Vermont, causing terrible floods and washed-out roads. But not in Adamant. The Upper Pond got very full.

The Beaver Dam After Irene

Water poured over the beaver dam. Still, the dam held. Adamant was wet, but undamaged. Isn’t the score even now? Last year, the beaver caused damage to Adamant, but this year, their dam held back the water and protected Adamant. I think it’s one for one.

Posted in country life | Tagged flood | 4 Responses

A Week Later

By Ruth on September 4, 2011

It’s a steamy, overcast day, a week after Vermont’s disastrous floods. You might think we were back to summer, until you looked around. Then you see that the green is not so green, that there’s starting to be some yellow in the leaves and grass. The air seems different. The crows are gathering into groups. I haven’t seen a robin for days. Hurricane Irene blew us, or maybe washed us, into a new season, out of summer and into the beginning of fall.
It’s supposed to rain hard tonight and tomorrow. I hope the weather people are wrong. It must be awful for people whose places got damaged by Irene to think they might get hit again. We were very lucky. The only damage we got was that there was a foot-deep gulley in the middle of our road, but it was passable if you straddled it with the wheels of the car. My corn got beaten down by the rain, but I was able to stand most of it up again.
The news is full of examples of how the people of Vermont are managing to cope with what has been thrown at them and how generous they are about turning out to help the ones who need help. It reminds me of the essay William Faulkner wrote called A Guest’s Impression Of New England. He says, “It is not the country which impressed this one. It is the people—the men and women themselves so individual, who hold individual integration and privacy as high and dear as they do liberty and freedom;” And later on in the essay he says about the New Englander, “Because he is free, private, not made so by the stern and rockbound land—the poor thin soil and the hard long winters—on which his lot was cast, but on the contrary: having elected of his own volition that stern land and weather because he knew he was tough enough to cope with them; having been bred by the long tradition which sent him from old worn-out Europe so he could be free; taught him to believe that there is no valid reason why life should be soft and docile and amenable, that to be individual and private is the thing and that the man who cannot cope with any environment anywhere had better not clutter the earth to begin with.”
It’s easy for me to say since I haven’t been hurt by the flood, but it’s still so. It was true in 1954 when Faulkner wrote it, and it’s still true today. And bravo to the tough people of our state.

Posted in country life | Tagged flood | 1 Response

Cutting Hay

By Ruth on July 1, 2011

Cut hay

Of all the farm-related jobs we do in a year, getting the hay in is probably the most fun. It’s hard work, and it can be dangerous, but we need lots of hands to help, so it’s a social occasion too, an outdoor party with a guarantee of good weather, although there have been times when we were racing a thunderstorm.

Not very many people make hay the labor-intensive way we do any more. We use machines that are thirty or forty years old. We cut fields all around Adamant that our neighbors would like to keep open, and we haul the hay back to the barn in an old dump truck.

The weather is the tricky part, because to get the hay dry enough to be compressed into a bale and stacked in the barn, we need three days in a row that are sunny, or at least dry. It’s not easy to find that many days of good weather in a row in Vermont and especially not this year.

Raking

We started a couple of weeks ago with a very small piece of a field to see if the machinery was ready. It wasn’t. We had breakdowns, but we managed to put in 60 bales, before the weather changed. It was a very small beginning since we need 2000 for the winter.
The first two days of work are almost all Bill’s. He cuts the grass with a big machine that he pulls behind one of the tractors. After it has been cut, the hay has to lie in the field for a day. Bill drives over it pulling the tedder, a machine like a giant eggbeater that flips the hay and fluffs it up. The day after that Bill can rake the hay into long rows called windrows, so that the baler can pick it up and make it into bales.

Then the fun begins. The baler drops the bales all over the place. We drive the dump truck through the field throwing bales into it.

Loading the truck

Someone (I am usually the one) stacks them up into a huge interlocked pile that can stand the trip back to the barn. We can always get 80 or 90 bales into one load. Sometimes, if there are enough people who can throw that high, (and each bale weighs 40 or 50 pounds), or if we have enough time to fool around, we try to see how many we can get on a load. I think the most we ever did was 116. We take them back to the barn and unload them and stack them all over again. When all the hay is in, it feels wonderful to sit for a while and talk and laugh together.

This is the first of what I hope will be a series of blogs about my writing and my life on the farm, two things that are intertwined. They feed each other and enrich each other. My fiction comes out of my life in Vermont and my life has writing fiction at the center of it. There is a chapter in THE SIMPLE LIFE that tells how Sonny Trumbley and his family picked up the hay and put it in the barn.

On top of the load

Posted in country life | Tagged farming | 2 Responses

Vermont Woman Review November 2009

By Ruth on June 16, 2010

This isn’t a new review, although it was new to me. I only found out about it a month ago. I have only included part of Amy Lilly’s review. If you want to see the whole thing go to: Vermont Woman article

Novel Gift Choices That Won’t Be Returned to Sender
By Amy Lilly

Fiction lovers planning on gifting copies of Lorrie Moore’s or Hilary Mantel’s latest for the holidays would do well to look closer to home: Vermont boasts a slew of talented women novelists. Here are five new works of fiction that appeared in 2009, all by experienced authors. Delve into the world of dairy farming or small-town Vermont life; plow through a suspense novel or linger over a family saga. There’s something for everyone.

According to Kit
by Eugenie Doyle
Front Street, 2009
215 pp.

Dismantled
by Jennifer McMahon
Harper, 2009
423 pp.

Ordinary Magic
by Ruth Porter
Bar Nothing Books, 2009
451 pp.

Return to Sender
by Julia Alvarez
Knopf Books for Children, 2009
336 pp.

Two Rivers
by T. Greenwood
Kensington Books, 2009
373 pp.

Dedicated DIYer Ruth Porter of Adamant just self-published her second novel, Ordinary Magic. She and her husband created their own publishing company, Bar Nothing Books, to ensure that her debut novel, The Simple Life, met her artistic specifications. The new one has a similarly quiet beauty: Porter’s own photographs, of icicled eaves and snowy work horses, form a silent introduction to the novel and grace each chapter page, and the paper stock is luxurious. The whole effect renders the Kindle and its kin irrelevant.

Ordinary Magic is an extended-family saga set in 1977. George and his older brother Cal grew up on the family farm, but George left for the nearby, suggestively named town of Severance to become a lawyer while Cal stayed on. Cal is now a gruff old Vermonter who can smell snow coming and peppers his comments with such colloquialisms as “goin downstreet” – meaning, leaving the farm to go anywhere. When he gets shot through the foot during deer-hunting season, the semi-estranged brothers and their families reconnect in ways as various and tangled as the dark tree branches in the painting Porter chose for her cover.

What aids that process is that George and his wife Laurie’s younger daughter Nora has suddenly come home from her single life in Boston without explanation. Nora is in fact trying to keep her pregnancy a secret, and she finds solace in escaping regularly to Uncle Cal’s. But everyone else seems to have private struggles, too: George is an alcoholic in denial; Nora’s sister Lena juggles two small children and an aloof husband who’s been sleeping with “a friend”; Cal and his wife Ursela’s son Conrad wants to make it on his own as a logger but finds himself becoming mired in debt.

Such a summary makes the book sound depressing, but nothing could be further from the truth. Porter’s meticulous descriptions of the emotional fluctuations behind family members’ conversations, sentence by sentence, make for absorbing character studies with a ring of truth. Sometimes the detail overwhelms the forward drive of the story – there is something to be said for that intermediary in traditional publishing, the ruthless editor – but Ordinary Magic ends up creating a world unto itself that seems as familiar as the one downstreet.

Vermont Woman Associate Editor Amy Lilly lives in Burlington.

Posted in news, writing | 4 Responses

Blogcritics Interview

By Ruth on April 10, 2010

An interview by Ann Hagman Cardinal which first appeared on March 9, 2010, on the site, www.blogcritics.org

When you hear of a writer who has a literary pedigree like Ruth King Porter — the granddaughter of Maxwell Perkins, editor to Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Thomas Wolfe — certain images come to mind. Oak-lined studies and writing garrets, or maybe cocktail parties and New York hobnobbing. Instead, Ruth Porter spends her day tending her beef cows, caring for her horses and harvesting vegetables. And somewhere in there she sits at her kitchen table and works on her novels in a not very glamorous, but in a comfy and cozy Vermont kind of way.

Ruth was born in New York City, but moved to Ohio when she was quite young. In 1964, she and her husband, journalist Bill Porter, moved to Vermont. She couldn’t even make coffee when she got married, so she learned what she could about cooking and farming from books (she cites Little House in the Big Woods as an excellent source for information, particularly about churning butter and curing meat). They raised four children — not to mention dozens of sheep, pigs, cows, horses and chickens. Though she grew up knowing of her famous grandfather — oft described as the most famous literary editor — she didn’t know him and was quite young when he died. Ruth wouldn’t start writing until after she began to raise a family. Once she got a taste of the struggles of the publishing world while shopping her first novel, The Simple Life, she found she shared her grandfather’s rebellious spirit (he had to fight to publish Fitzgerald and Hemingway) and decided to go rogue and begin her own publishing company, appropriately named Bar Nothing Books.

Ruth’s latest novel — released this month — is titled Ordinary Magic. The storyline focuses on the Willards, a traditional Vermont farming family whose tale is told in straightforward but elegant prose that mirrors the personalities of the characters and the culture in which they live. The alternating points of view and voices provide pieces of an intricate puzzle that come together to create an understated but enchanting image of life in rural Vermont.

How do you manage to fit the writing of novels into farming life?

I’ve always done the writing first. I would get the kids off to school and do the chores that had to be done, and then I would take the rest of the morning for my writing and jam everything else I had to do into the afternoon and night. It all gets done if it has to be done, but if you try to get all the work out of the way first, you end up with no time left to write.

Though you never met your famous literary grandfather, do you feel the pressure of his masterful editorial hand on your shoulder?

I think I probably spent some time with him when I was a baby, because I lived in New York until I was two and a half. I have one memory of him being in the next room talking to an uncle of mine. I must have been about two. But his editorial presence has been very helpful to me. When I was working on The Simple Life, I knew I needed an editor. I sent the manuscript to lots of publishing companies, but I couldn’t find anyone willing to advise me. Then I thought that I could teach myself to edit myself. It ought to be possible for someone who was related to Max Perkins. And he always said that he never needed to edit Hemingway because Hemingway was good at editing himself. So I studied the book of Max’s letters, Editor to Author. I also read books about Max and his writers and while I was working on The Simple Life, my aunt, Bert Frothingham, and I put together a book of Max’s letters to his daughters. I believe Max taught me how to write and how to edit.

You really capture Vermont and its residents beautifully in Ordinary Magic, were your characters inspired by real people?

Everyone’s characters are inspired by real people to some extent. I think the difference is whether you take a person whole into your story, or whether you take certain portions of different people and put them together. That’s what I try to do. Sometimes I can find a photograph of a person I don’t know, and by looking at it long enough and hard enough, I feel as though I know the person. I found the photograph that became Cal in a junk store.

The book deals with a sensitive subject with the one of the main characters wrestling with an unplanned pregnancy and the possibility of abortion. Did you know how she was going to decide ahead of time?

I think I could say that I hoped she would choose the way she did. It’s a funny combination of knowing and not knowing. I am always puzzled when people say they have no idea how their story will turn out, and yet of course, it becomes dead if you force it to go the way you meant in the beginning. I always think it’s like a road trip—you know something about the trip, roughly how long it’s going to take, where you are going to end up, maybe even what you hope to see along the way, but you don’t know what’s going to happen until you actually get on the road, and it can turn out to be very different than you thought it would be. For me, it has to be both at once.

Even though it is clearly in present day (abortion is legal) the story and its characters have a timeless quality. Is there a message in that?

I’m very glad if that’s true. I tried hard for it to be that way. I think it depends on what the story is about. If it’s about things that are important to people no matter when they live, then it can have a timeless quality, if you’re lucky.

Several of the main characters of the ensemble cast are men and you write them well. How did you get into the male mind in order to capture their voices?

My brother, who is an actor, told me something very important when I was working on The Simple Life. He said he never played himself. You have to be able to look at a person and make that person coherent, and you can’t do that about yourself, because you can’t see yourself. I was struggling with Isabel at the time. She turned out to be very hard, because I thought I could just write myself and so it would be easy. Since my brother said that, I think I have found it almost as easy to write men as to write women. I gave Cal lots of things that are important to me, for example. But he’s obviously a very different person also.

You include photographs at the beginning of each chapter. Can you share with us the story behind that concept?

I want a person reading my novel to feel that it’s an experience that person is having, so I want the novel to be very real. A photograph is a proof of that reality. I always wanted photographs in my novels, not ones of people because that might get in the way of how the reader pictured the characters, but scenes that would make the reality even more real. It’s one of the reasons I decided to publish my books myself. I might have been able to find a commercial publisher, but I knew I would never find one who would let me put in a lot of my own photographs.

What are you working on next?

I’ve started a new novel. This one is going to be about that strange and difficult country that is old age. I hope it’s going to be about death and sex also, but it’s just the beginning. Those are the subjects that I hope to write about anyway.

Tell us something that isn’t on the official bio.

I haven’t ever earned much money, but I’ve always been able to make good food. A year and a half ago, I started taking about fifty pounds of food to the food shelf every month. I raised extra food in the last two gardens, especially potatoes and carrots, things I can bring even in the winter. I bake extra nutritious bread every month too, and I almost always can get together a lot of eggs. My rule is that the food for the food shelf has to be the best, not the leftovers.

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