Month: August 2010

Close Cover Before Striking


All in a weekend’s junking

For a brief, shining moment this week, I thought I was done with TFB. (The Friggin’ Book.) Then came a phone call Friday, from my editor, and a six-page edit letter explaining what further trimming and tweaking is needed for the manuscript in ROUND TWO. Ah well. Another opportunity for greatness, right? In between, editorial discussions, I managed to sneak in a little junking at a couple of estate sales and this month’s Scott’s Antique Market.

Posse member Susie and I did a quick sweep at Scott’s on Thursday, which is set-up day. I spied this stuffed wolf, or is it a coyote? peeking out of a dealer’s van.

Taxidermy coyote? peeking out of van at Scott’s Market

The only thing I bought was a vintage cabinet card of a solemn little boy dressed in a sailor suit. I was so struck by his charm that I immediately went home and scored four more little sailor children from eBay and Etsy. They’ll either join this lil’ fella in our nautical bedroom at The Breeze Inn, or make a collection at my booth at Seaside Sisters. I do love a theme, ya know–which is why I have dozens of vintage beach and bathing suit photos scattered around the Breeze and my booth. In fact, I bought a few more little black and white beach snaps to add to the goodness in the booth.


A solemn little sailor boy
On Friday, Mr. Mary Kay made a rare outing to an estate sale with me. He was looking for a power tool for an upcoming construction project at the Breeze, but the tool that was advertised was not the right thing. Still, he was surprisingly patient while I cruised through the sale. I did manage to snag a pair of scrolly wrought iron planter thingies, but the big buy of the day was a set of 16 vintage Griffith’s milk glass spice jars. After some research on eBay I was thrilled to learn that I’d snagged a rarity–16–and they all have their original paper labels intact. They are going right to my booth!

Despite my vow to stay home and work this morning, I caved and went back to Scott’s. But hey, I got home by noon. I did a fast tour of the outdoor dealers and got a neat pre-1960s globe, a vintage framed Girl Scout photo (Girl Scouts were founded in Savannah, you know), and the best buy of the day, an old jar with wire bail handle, full of old matchbook covers. I had the best time sorting through them when I got home. There are several covers for Atlanta area hotels and restaurants, including one from a furniture store that was located right in my little bitty town, as well as covers from Ohio, California and New York. But the best one of all–this little beauty, which is apparently an ad for uh, “social responsibility”. Love the graphics and the slogan–“You’re no MATCH…Don’t get Burned…Use Cover. And the flip side? “…for V.D. NO IS THE BEST TACTIC…The Next Prophyactic.” Couldn’t have said it better myself!


Don’t get burned…or VD!

Chairish is the word I use to describe

The Goldilocks approach to junking for chairs

Yes, I know I should have stayed home this morning to finish what my agent and I have come to call TFB–a mysterious acronym for The Friggin’ Book. Only we use a very bad word instead of friggin’. But I stayed home yesterday, ignoring the call of several promising estate sales. And I worked very, very hard all week long, trying to finish revisions of TFB. And I swear, I am this close. But all work and no junking makes MKA a very cranky girl. So posse member Shay and I saddled up and set out this morning for an estate sale in Buckhead, run by Vicki. We love Vicki’s sales, because she gets down to business. Vicki greeted me this morning with the news that she liked the sex scenes in LITTLE BITTY LIES, which she’d just finished reading at the beach, which made us both giggle like naughty school-girls. We traded some more naughty gossip, and then I got down to junking. My first purchase was the little wicker boudoir chair above. Later I found the fun green butterfly chair in the garage. My parents had a pair of those when I was a kid in the ’60s, in a hip orange, so I was happy to find this ‘lil green butterfly, which will join the wicker chair at my booth at Seaside Sisters. I was getting ready to check out when I spotted a trunk which Vicki had just unearthed. Digging around inside, I came up with the adorable plush baby blanket from the ’50s, which is in new condition. And then I found the fun chenille high school letters. Remembering our naughty talk, I suggested that somebody could pin those letters on their sweater and tell everybody they lettered in ‘SLUT’ in high school. Immediately, I realized this is a line I could use in my new book–so you see, junking is a valuable creative outlet for writers. At least that’s what I tell myself. We motored on to another sale, which was a bust, except that it’s always fun to see estate sale ladies like Ann and Dell and Myrtice. And at the last sale of the day, I struck gold with this primo newly slipcovered wing chair. It’s done in great beachy blue stripes and looks like it just came from a showroom. Yay me! If I could find a spot in The Breeze Inn for this lovely, I would, but I think we’ve got a gracious plenty of chairs there, so this puppy will be heading down to my Seaside Sisters booth next weekend. And in the meantime, I’ll have it to “chairish” for at least a week, until I send this and my other treasures off to worthy new homes. Also, now that my creative juices have been re-filled, I’ll just finish TFB.

We Interrupt this Blog

MKA’s McGyvered Manuscript

News bulletin. Your erstwhile blogger is in revision hell. She is overdue, cranky, pathetically needy. Her newest novel is printed out, its chapters scattered all over her sunroom floor, with giant post-it notes telling her what those chapters are trying to accomplish. Her characters are balking at letting their story go, and her editor, up there in New York, is tapping her foot impatiently, beating out a Morse code-like message that seems to say ‘FINISH THE DAMNED BOOK, ALREADY.’ In short, your correspondent is not herself.


The curb sofa that got away

How do we know this? Because she missed out on this super-swell curbside bonanza 1940s sofa this week. Can you believe it? She walked past it, photographed it with Mr. Mary Kay’s cellphone, then strolled home and waited a fateful twenty minutes or more before going back to pick it up in the family truck. Of course, by the time she got her rear in gear and got back there, another neighborhood scavenger was already loading said sofa in her vehicle. Sob. So yes, dear reader, this is what I do, the sacrifice I make for art. Be assured, however, that the revisions are underway, and I intend to make those pesky characters toe the line. Because there’s an estate sale Friday, and there’s a limit to what one poor author can endure.