A Review, A Reading

and much needed inspiration

Jul 11, 2025

The fate of the catnip mouse is in jeopardy, as is the weather of the world these days. Meanwhile, Riley persists.

I have a review of mine to share, a reading on Zoom I hope you’ll sign up for, and some inspiring words from one of my favorite authors, Richard Bausch, who has a new collection of short stories (The Fate of Others) out in the world as well as a paperback version of another collection, Living in the Weather of the World.

Bookshop.org is currently offering free shipping until midnight tonight, July 11th, as an “anti-Prime” sale. Jeff Bezos doesn’t need any more of your money, and by shopping at Bookshop you help support independent bookstores.

Citric Acid: An Online Orange County Literary Arts Quarterly of Imagination and Reimagination recently published my review of a new anthology from Gunpowder Press, Women in a Golden State, California Poets at 60 and Beyond.

Here’s an excerpt from the review:

I’ve been an Orange County woman since 1966 when I was fourteen and my father’s aerospace job transferred him to Santa Monica from Charlotte, North Carolina. The Beach Boys sang about “California Girls” on the radio as we drove across the country. I couldn’t wait to be one, but when we settled in Fountain Valley, California, I realized I didn’t quite fit the profile. I wasn’t blond, my skin never tanned, and I wasn’t allowed to wear a French bikini.

I’ve never felt like a true California girl, but almost sixty years later, California is still my home. And now, as “a woman of a certain age in youth-obsessed California,” I’m delighted to be included in a new anthology from Gunpowder Press, Women in a Golden State, California Poets at 60 and Beyond.

The anthology “invites readers to reconsider aging not as an end, but as an ongoing journey—one filled with beauty, strength, and boundless possibilities.” In celebration of the 175th anniversary of California’s statehood, the Gunpowder Press editors selected 175 contributors from across California, which allows a wide spectrum of territory and voices. Orange County is part of the mix, from Disneyland to Dana Point, from Fullerton to Balboa Island, and from the mouth of the Santa Ana River to the community swimming pools in Irvine.

I counted at least twelve other authors in the anthology who have lived or currently live in Orange County as I read through the biographies. There may be more. Not all authors include their hometowns in the bios, for a variety of reasons. Space is short and some folks don’t necessarily want to be pigeonholed by where they live, especially when it’s in Orange County. I get that. I live in Huntington Beach.

More from my review:

Los Angeles Times reporter Gustavo Arellano has described Orange County as a “strange, bizarre, overachieving vortex of paradise,” and the works shared by the golden women of this county reflect this complexity. A strong sense of place percolates through these poems and essays, as do themes of loss and grief, the confines of life in suburbia, the confusion of being considered an outsider, and the challenges of making sense of it all.

My essay is very much about the ever-present disconnect of not belonging and my family’s bewilderment at what we encountered in Fountain Valley as new arrivals.

Zoom in on Monday. It’s free but you will need to register. You can do that here.

brown and gray padlock — Photo by Georgy Rudakov on Unsplash

I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate our country’s birthday last weekend, but I did get together with family, friends, and neighbors for delicious food and excellent live music, as well as a neighborhood bike parade and many explosions.

Some conversations astounded me, however. Some folks laughed when my husband mentioned he was carrying a copy of his passport with him at all times. Some people were bewildered as to why that was necessary. A normally empathetic friend said “jokingly” that they were going to call ICE on my husband.

It’s disturbing to think that folks in Southern California don’t understand that being a brown human being in today’s America, regardless of citizenship status, makes you a target.

It’s not funny.

Richard Bausch, me, and my Maker’s Mark water bottle.

I was grateful for a few hours of inspiration at the California Writer’s Club at the Packing House in Anaheim. I caught up with some amigas (Dawn and Valerie) and Richard Bausch, author of thirteen novels and ten collections of short stories, was the featured speaker.

Years ago, I was lucky enough to be included in Richard’s generous community workshop at Chapman University in Orange, California and he’s largely responsible for me believing that I am a writer.

Richard is also a friend, teacher, musician, bad joke teller, literary citizen, and cheerleader to so many writers. He spoke eloquently to the club about how lucky we are as writers to “still be struggling with the blessed occupation.” He reminded us that if you can write at all, “you are morally obligated to pursue it; it's not an indulgence, it's what you’re SUPPOSED to be doing.”

A few other favorite Bausch-isms:

“Never ask yourself anything beyond "Did I work today?"

“When you reach a place where you feel blocked, lower your standards and keep on going. There is no possible way to do permanent damage to a piece of writing. You cannot ruin it. You can only make it a little better a little at a time.”

Richard has an incredible memory for lines of Shakespeare, song lyrics, bad jokes, and poetry. During his talk, he shared a Robinson Jeffers’ poem which I found surprisingly inspirational considering the title.

Cremation

It nearly cancels my fear of death, my dearest said,
When I think of cremation. To rot in the earth
Is a loathsome end, but to roar up in flame – besides, I
am used to it,
I have flamed with love or fury so often in my life,
No wonder my body is tired, no wonder it is dying.
We had a great joy of my body. Scatter the ashes.

—Robinson Jeffers