We have an ongoing standoff in our family about cranberries. My husband and our younger daughter are not fans. My older daughter and I are. Of course, the month of November and the Thanksgiving holiday brings this little family rift to the surface each year. Actually, it’s not truly a rift. We’re live-and-let-live about personal choices, including cranberries, which always make their way to our Thanksgiving table, even if dear husband and younger daughter delight in wrinkling their noses up at them.
I have noticed that they don’t wrinkle their noses at the cranberry coffee cake I make from the leftovers. Hmmm.
Anyway, in October, our older daughter graduated with her “wings” from her training program in the Air Force. We all gathered to celebrate with her, as did extended family and friends. Of course, I asked our older daughter what kind of pie I should tote down to the base at which she was stationed at the time. She immediately said, “cranberry apple,” because, as she put it, cranberry and apple would taste great together.
Dear husband and younger daughter reacted with variations of “ewww” and “is there such a thing?”
Well, of course there is. I’ve made a cranberry-cherry pie in the past, which *everyone* in the family loved. (Sometimes, I think my family teases me that such-and-such pie won’t be tasty, just to goad me into making said pie. Hmmmm.)
In any case, I made the Cranberry-Apple Pie, using this recipe. And, well, *everyone* liked it.
- Two prepared pie crusts.
- 4 cups peeled and finely chopped apples. (I like to use Granny Smith).
- 2 cups whole cranberries. (I use raw, from the bag in the produce section, or frozen if the raw is not available.)
- 1 1/2 cups white sugar. (Cranberries are tart, so increase to two cups if you prefer a sweeter taste.)
- 1/4 cup flour or cornstarch.
- 1 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
- 2 Tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
Preheat oven to 425-degrees F.
- Mix cranberries, apples, sugar, flour or cornstarch, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
- Fit one pie crust to pie plate.
- Fill will cranberry-apple mixture.
- Dot with butter.
- Top with second crust. Cut slits to vent, brush with milk or egg whites, sprinkle with turbinado sugar.
- Bake at 425-degrees F for 10 minutes; reduce heat to 350-degrees F and bake 50 minutes longer or until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbly.
Cranberry-Cherry Pie variation:
Substitute 3 cups frozen or raw, pitted cherries for diced apples. Or, use 21 ounces cherry pie filling and cut sugar to 3/4 cup.
Just two weeks left in the Goodreads Giveaway of 50 copies of THE WIDOWS! Runs through November 17.
You know what they say… you can’t win if you don’t play!
So… go here to enter: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39863210-the-widows
Feel free to share.
I came on Sept. 29 with 15 months’ worth of writing, re-writing, researching, brainstorming, character-creating and outlining completed for my novel-in-progress, only about 125 polished pages, and the rather extreme goal of completing that novel.
Before I pack up and head back home today, I want to summarize my experiences while still living, for a few more hours at least, in the third-floor apartment at the Thurber House. And then I’ll let you know.
Let’s get this–ghosts, no-such-thing-as-ghosts, maybe-yes-maybe-no-ghosts–out of the way first.
Truth be told, I don’t think much about ghosts, although I do love a good ghost story, and even have an idea for a fun one that I might (or might not) someday write. It never crossed my mind that Thurber House might be associated with ghosts… until I received news of this residency.
Then, it seemed, everyone kept saying to me: “You know Thurber House is haunted, right?”
Turns out, there’s even a Ghost Hunters episode about Thurber House. No, I haven’t watched it. Yes, I probably will eventually. (I actually hadn’t even heard of the Ghost Hunters TV show before this residency. Read the whole blog and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find a link to the episode at the end!)
So since I know I’m going to be asked “did you experience any ghosts?” I’ll just answer right here: probably not. Well, maybe.
After I’d been here about a week, I woke early one morning, about 6:15, to the distinctive sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. The sound was definitely not birds or branches or the expected pops and creaks of a 140ish years old house.
My very first thought? “Oh, wow, Susanne is in early!”
Susanne is the program director; the residency apartment occupies most of the third floor, but Susanne’s office is in a room on the other side of the apartment door.
So, I went about my morning ablutions, and then popped out to tease Susanne about coming in so early. But Susanne wasn’t there. In fact, the Thurber House employees didn’t arrive until 8 a.m. or so.
I’ve since been told this is the sound that inspired Thurber’s story, “The Night The Ghost Got In.” So… ghostly mischievousness? Or a writer with a big imagination hearing some ordinary sound, in the early twilight, and interpreting the sound as footsteps?
Sorry, I’m going with the latter.
But it did make me think about ghosts. And here’s the conclusion at which I arrived: if there are ghosts at Thurber House, then there are ghosts pretty much everywhere, and thus I’ve been walking amid ghosts my whole life. There is nothing I can do about the existence of ghosts (or the non-existence), so I’m fine either way.
The Residency Itself
I’ve been asked a few times by local high schools if a student who is interested in being a writer could job shadow me. I’ve always said “no,” or offered to meet the student at the school to answer questions about writing careers, because this is what the poor student would otherwise have to do: Watch my yoga-pants-and-t-shirt-wearing self frown, grump and/or type at my computer or write in a notebook or stare in space. For hours.
If you’d been with me at the residency, that’s what you’d have observed me doing, for 10 or so hours a day, with a few breaks here and there for yoga, meditating and walking. I did take some longer breaks to enjoy Columbus–the art museum, the Franklin Park Conservatory, browsing at a great vintage shop called Flower Child in the Short North, and dining at Katzinger’s Deli, Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream, and Rubino’s Pizza. And of course I enjoyed getting to know the wonderful staff at Thurber House, and exploring the historic, beautiful first and second floors.
Which makes the month sound boring… except it wasn’t. It was glorious.
What a gift… spending a whole month on solely delving into my novel-in-progress, hanging out with my characters, writing, re-writing, polishing, tucked away in a comfy, cozy, quiet apartment. (As part of the terms of the residency, I did lead two brief evening writing classes and give a reading of my work-in-progress, but other than that, I was writing. And occasionally pantomiming.) Such concentrated time, away from all obligations other than the rudimentary needs of being human… ah! Joy.
The residency came at a perfect time, both creatively and personally. Creatively, I had reached the point in my current project where I simply needed to concentrate on pushing through to “the end.” Personally, I’m wise enough to know this kind of opportunity is extremely rare, and I didn’t squander a bit of the time. What’s more, our kids are grown (one in college, one just graduated from college and working at her first professional job), so though of course I missed my husband, taking time away wasn’t as complicated as it would have been just a few years ago.
It sounds odd–after all, I’ve written other novels, been a weekly newspaper columnist for 12 years, and direct a writers’ workshop, but the experience also affirmed that I Am A Writer. Affirmation, though, isn’t something we ‘arrive’ at and never need again. I think we all need re-affirmation time and again of ourselves as beloved, as creative, as worthy, and this residency was a delightful reaffirmation of myself as a creative writer.
On October 18, I hit “The End.”
I made myself take 24 hours to just relax… I went to a movie, binge-watched Parks and Recreation, napped, walked, met a cousin who lives in Columbus for coffee, talked with my husband and daughters, shopped a bit at Flower Child. (I purposefully didn’t bring any books with me for pleasure reading; I only brought books for research, two inspirational writing books–“The Mindful Writer” and “Seven Steps on the Writer’s Path” and my well-worn copy of the Tao.)
And yet, the demons rushed in.
Remember how I said I don’t actually believe there are ghosts? (Or if there are, I don’t believe I can sense/experience them?)
Well, that doesn’t mean I don’t believe we aren’t all haunted.
That demons–of doubt, despair, fear, apprehension–don’t find us all from time to time. Or maybe even pretty often.
Somehow, I always forget how vulnerable I am to my own ‘haunts’ when I reach a major milestone, even an obviously positive, celebration-worthy one. Haunts about my work. Haunts, even, about my own worthiness as a person, what’s more as a writer.
So, it became very tempting to simply… delete everything. Toss it aside. Let those haunts possess me.
Here’s the thing about despair, though. It quickly becomes pretty boring.
I finally gave myself the lecture I always give myself at these times: so what you’ve created might not please everyone? Well, d’oh! Of course it won’t! So what? I don’t like every book I read, movie I watch, art piece I observe, and so on. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t touch others… or that it wasn’t important for the artist to create.
What you’ve created might not find a publishing home? Well, d’oh! No one gets to create with a guarantee of success. In fact, such a guarantee would only stifle any real creativity.
And so, even while still struggling with those haunts (which I share, because I think everyone has them, and it helps, doesn’t it, to know we all do), I didn’t delete everything I’d created. I’ve spent the last week copy-editing and proofing, and yesterday I sent the polished draft to my agent.
What happens next? Well, obviously I hope she’s enthusiastic about it. I’m sure (I hope!) she’ll have suggestions for improving my novel. And then… we’ll see.
In any case, this has been an affirming, once-in-a-lifetime creative and personal experience for which I’ll always be thankful, and will always cherish.
P.S. And in case you really want to watch the Ghost Hunters episode about Thurber House, here’s the link.