Brenda Buchanan

Amazing day, this one.

After 55 years and 28 days on this earth, my right to full-throatedly speak my heart’s truth has been realized.

The law extending marriage rights to same-sex couples in Maine took effect at 12:01 a.m. My love and I were standing in the December cold in front of Portland City Hall, surrounded by laughing, weeping, singing, dancing, delighted people.

Having known I was gay before I even knew the word, I never imagined myself being married. It was simply out of the question. An experience beyond my reach. And, I thought for many, many years, something I did not deserve. Eventually I began to question the assumptions underlying that belief. Through both the women’s movement and the gay rights movement, I started my personal march toward this happy milestone, one step at a time.
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It’s after 10 p.m. and I’m winding down from a lovely Sunday here in Southern Maine. Take a look:

I have work to do yet tonight so I’m going to make this post a quick list of the weekend’s joys.

We spent time with all of the members of my clan minus one yesterday at a St. Patrick’s Day party. My mother was in her glory, surrounded by her kids, grandkids and great-grands. The Alzheimers hasn’t robbed her of her joie de vivre, especially when children are in the room and Irish music is playing in the background.
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It was an amazing day here in Southern Maine, warm, sunny and light for a looooong time. A lot of people I know (including my beloved) grumble about the arrival of Daylight Savings Time. To them, springing forward means an hour of lost sleep, and dark mornings again. To me, the long afternoon light is worth the trade-off.

I celebrated by grilling chicken that had been marinating all afternoon in a lemon-garlic sauce officially called “Garlicious” which I call “Garlic-Licious,” because it makes my sweetie laugh every time. It was lovely to stand out on the deck, imagining the trees leafed out, the garden planted, the warm-weather birds flocking to the feeders for a bedtime snack.

Soon.

We walked at Crescent Beach in early afternoon. Here is a photo of the sign that greets the winter-weary masses:
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February passed without many Sunday beach walks. We were out of town all or part of many weekends, which disrupted our rituals a bit. Today was a good day to get back in the groove. Sunny and warmish, the breeze was light when we arrived at Scarborough Beach. Here’s a photo:

Two young guys carrying surfboards were on our heels as we trekked from road to beach, wearing hooded drysuits complete with booties, essential gear for winter surfing in the North Atlantic. Somewhere between boyish 20 and settling down 30, they grinned at us as they scooted toward the respectable surf, still agitated by last week’s storms.
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Here’s that shot of the frozen dune from Sunday’s walk. I’m cold to the bone again just looking at it.

We walked on Sunday at Ferry Beach in Saco, when the temp was about 12 and the wind was blowing at about 25 so it was big-time bundle-up time. We took a nice photo of dunes glistening under a coat of snow frosted by freezing rain, but my computer is balking at inserting it. I will try again later.

So winter has Maine in its grip, finally. I comfort myself that we are halfway through January, that the light is already coming back, that in three short months it will be April. Burrowing in to my house, my office, my flannel-sheeted bed, I’m in active hibernation.
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A sweet day today on the coast of Maine, not warm as yesterday, but lovely nonetheless. We walked at Crescent Beach, where the water was calm and the breeze was light. Here’s a photo from the bluff at the southwest end, looking toward Richmond Island.

This particular beach is the setting for one of my favorite scenes in my work in progress, The Quick Pivot. It came together more easily than any other scene, and has needed the least revision.

My work this weekend on the QP has gone well. I’m about done with the personality transplant on that key female character and at least to my (admittedly biased) eyes, it’s working. My pal and beta reader Maureen will be giving it a look next week. We’ll see what she says.
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No photo tonight, just some before-bed thoughts about writing and rewriting.

I finished the first draft of my current Work in Progress – The Quick Pivot – in August. I let it sit a while, like bread to rise, then gave it a full read to make sure the plot hung together. When I’ve got my fingers in it every day, it’s easy to lose track of details.

Sure enough, I found one medium-sized hole in the story. I mended it, then put the manuscript into the hands of a few trusted readers who pull no punches. A few weeks later I was sorting through much useful feedback. I incorporated the easy stuff first and worked my way up to the delicate revisions that require the most time. By November I thought I was done, but more feedback sent me back to the keyboard, refining, polishing, trimming some more.
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Another lovely day here in Maine, and another lovely beach walk. Late afternoon this time, the day having been consumed with other matters. At Pine Point, there was a definite breeze and the tide was coming in at sundown.

I woke this morning thinking about my most pleasurable mystery/suspense/crime reads in the year just past. Some were books published in 2011. Others had been sitting in my To Be Read pile for a while. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter by Tom Franklin. An absorbing story with well-drawn characters. For a couple of days it transported me to rural Misssippi. Silas and Larry are believable, flawed men with a powerful connection. http://www.harpercollins.com/authors/19243/Tom_Franklin/index.aspx
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Happy 2012

It’s a new year out there today, which is fine by me. 2011 had more than its share of sadness and worry, so I’m happy to turn the page. And I’m a big fan of even numbers, so the very thought of 2012 cheers me. I even like the sound of it. Twenty-twelve. Nice.
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