Just us Chickens: A Valentine’s peep

Dear Chix Pix:

I love chickens, and feel a close kinship to Gonzo on the Muppets. Your chicken story is precious. My grandparents had chickens on the farm in Santa Ana where I spent my first six years. I have since, twice tried raising chickens, but failed to make a secure henhouse and, well, EVERYTHING eats chicken.

My son was going to build me a chicken house when he visited at Christmas, but we had 200 percent more rain this December than normal, and he didn’t make much progress. We had so much rain that a waterfall appeared over a rocky promontory on the mountainside across the highway, flowing for about a week, very pretty. But I have a plan B that I hope to get to this year. I can’t see paying five dollars a dozen for organic eggs when I can grow my own for chickenfeed, so to speak.

I gave my manuscript to a professional editor who is also a creative writing instructor. Two months later, just after Christmas, I got it back. Overall, she said, it lacked plot structure and tension as a novel, but needed very few changes as a memoir. So now I am working on THE MEMOIR. The “novel” was about a couple of years in the ‘60s, the two years before THE MEMOIR. The memoir is tentatively titled “BICOASTAL: A Kidnapping/Custody Battle.” I am 50,000 mostly painful words into the first draft. But I think it will serve the overall good for women in any kind of custody battle, if only as a how-not-to.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I made the butter brickle, not real pretty, but very tasty. Bought the cookies at my local farmers market and, of course, the almonds are locally grown and processed. Enjoy.

Much love,

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Filed under Country News and Notes, Memoir musings

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