PEGGY FIELDING'S NEWSLETTER
Vol. 6 Number 7 November 2006

SOMETHING IS FINISHED

We HENS aren't speaking and signing any more CHIK~LIT FOR FOXY HENS books after our last engagement at the Nathan Hale Library, in Tulsa, on Jan. 9, 6:30 to 7:30 pm. (See my schedule page for more information) Ms Crumb, the librarian there, very kindly invited us some time ago... telling us nice things she'd heard about our group.

Of course, I say this, knowing that if either Governor Henry or President Bush, insisted we come to their respective offices to sign, we would certainly saddle up and flutter to their spot, no matter that we have already spent all the months we'd promised ourselves for that promotion. Don't misunderstand, now. CHIK~LIT FOR FOXY HENS will still be for sale, but we won't be signing and speaking about it, (unless for Oklahoma's Governor or for the U.S. President.

MY USUAL DIRECTIONS FOR MORE PLEASURABLE READING OF THIS MISSIVE

Please go to the newsletter archive on my website, www.peggyfielding.com to read this newsletter. It's so much better looking after Dan has inserted drawings and pictures and cutlines. This also pacifies Carolyn Leonard of Oklahoma City who wants me to be sure to remind my readers to switch to the more handsome version of the newsletter. Naturally, one wants to keep on Carolyn's good side.

KEEPING A STUPID PROMISE

Most of you know about the promise (resolution?) I made to old Ray Fielding when I left him with his nineteen year old Filipina. This is how the scene went. (For readers who have heard the story...just skip over three paragraphs and go on.)

RAY: "You're crazy as hell, Peggy. You've got all those degrees and all that experience as a teacher, you can't expect to become a WRITER now!"

PEGGY: "I certainly will be a writer. Furthermore, I'm telling you right now I will write and sell in every field."

Ray shook his head with dismay but I have continued to do that stupid thing. I don't mean I was stupid to decide to become a writer. I mean I was stupid to follow that resolution. That promise to him has made me a neophyte in the field every time I started work in a new writing area. I should have specialized!

STILL STUPID

Well, here I go again. It's murder, this time around. Even though I'm a longtime member of Oklahoma Mystery Writers Group, I know little about writing mysteries. However, two of the HENS and I are starting novellas that are historical mysteries. So it's back to the bottom of the ladder again. Luckily, my pal, Jackie, is one of the HENS and she has always been more interested in murder than in any other kind of writing. I'm depending on Paula Alfred and Jackie King, my HEN friends, to get me where I'm trying to go, clucking up a mystery.

Next thing you know I'll be writing science fiction...or maybe an autobiography. The novella "Giving Up Pantyhose" in CHIK~LIT FOR FOXY HENS is the closest I've come to writing about my own life. "Pantyhose" tells the real story that sent me away from Ray and into that airport conversation about me being demented because I'd decided to be a writer.

This week I'll be looking at an autobiography written by one of my writer friends, Jill Hollien. That may well give me the impetus to write about my own life. We'll see.

A BOOK I ENJOYED BY A FELLOW WRITER WHOM I LOVE (AND I LOVE HIS WIFE, ALSO)

The book I’ve just finished is called THE HORSE CREEK INCIDENT. It was published by Jove and written by my pal, Dusty Richards. This was a mystery within a western. Both of which are still pending if I stick to my promise to old Ray. Of course, some of my stuff has verged on being Western, because I've written a lot of historical material.

Dusty has a contract for a second book in this series, which is set in Wyoming.

I think I'll pretty much miss Logan. I'm pretty sure Dust gets more money from books written under his own name. However, I hope Dusty hasn't given up on Logan entirely. That's about the only sex I ever get.

I'M STILL IN LOVE WITH THE NAMELESS SERGEANT

I still don't know his name and last Tuesday he only had a few lines in "The Unit." I'm reduced to scanning car crash commercials because I know he will soon look at me and ask me to buy All State Insurance. I'm tempted. I'd do almost anything that lovely, big creature asked me to do. Of course, I've been with my own insurance man forever so I'll stay with him, but All State is putting out really good bait.

TOES DIPPED IN SOMETHING STRANGE

Jackie introduced me to the young woman (Angie) with the tiny machine which she places in the pan of warm water in which your feet will rest.

I've done it four times now.

Feet in pan, as the moments pass, the clean, clear water changes color, specks float in the ugly orangey, brown liquid and huge frothy "things" swirl about. I'm hoping that the machine is drawing out the tropical fungus I've carried inside me for years.

“Taking the poisons out,” Angie sings as she observes the broth. “Pulling out the bad stuff,” she insists. “You're full of yeast,” Her diagnosis seems to point at the pinky transparent, foam blobs.

My feet make a disgusting mess, I must say, and I bathe before I go, paying special attention to the tootsies, so I can't blame faulty hygiene for the ugh looking stew.

What can I say? I’ve paid in advance so I'll be going in for the "footbath extraordinaire," at least three more times. Maybe I will be able to tell you more next month.

See you then.

Love, Peggy