OLD Whidbey Life Magazine

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Sue the Screenwriter | The Curious Business of Writing

BY SUZANNE KELMAN
August 1, 2014

Being a writer is a curious business. I have just completed a 67’000-word novel. Yes, I said 67’000 words. I had to write it twice, because I felt every one of those words—and I’m in shock. I’m in shock because I’m not a writer.

I started writing by accident, or necessity or some other twist of fate, but definitely not on purpose—a bit like in the movie “Forest Gump,” where one day Forest just starts running and becomes a runner. And even though I have been “writing” full-time for five years and have received numerous awards for my writing, I have yet to claim the title. Maybe you can relate. I struggle to accept this fact because I feel a fraud; you see, I don’t really fit the writer mold as I see it. Here is my checklist:

1) A writer is a deep thinker that sucks the marrow out of every piece of life and then commits it to words in a cavalcade of poignant and wonderful observations. My first draft of anything is somewhere between Dr. Seuss and e.e. cumming (in a bad way.)

2) A writer is good at spelling and understands all the grammar rules. I can’t even finish a sentence without three dives into a dictionary, four battles with the squiggly red lines and a ‘cut and paste job’ into “Grammarly” (the online equivalent of a stern grammar ma’am).

3) Even a writer’s emails sound poetic. Mine: once again—a jumble of thoughts and run-on sentences with at least half the words missed out.

4) Writers are often tortured and inwardly focused. I’m a “Hello-Dolly-happy-go-lucky” kind of character, normally waking up chirpy, in love with the world. I couldn’t feel tortured if I tried. I like my life, my home, my family and my friends.

5) A writer has a desk, dictionary and endless hours of peace and quiet. I do most my writing on my coffee table, or in bed, normally juggling a cat and dog on my lap, writing at the speed of light before the rest of my world crashes in to steal my time.

But even though I haven’t claimed the title of any of the above, this is what I get up and do everyday: I write. So how did this happen? Well, honestly, I don’t know and even if I did, I’m not tortured, smart or deep enough to put it into words. But I do know this:

Firstly, I’m curious. I’m curious about life, about people, about things and places and times. I have to explore the world around me and writing is my medium of choice, my weapon of translation. I pass a man hunched over in a bookshop in London and even if it’s the briefest of glances, just a quick glimpse between total strangers, there is something about him I need to investigate. My mind whirls with a hundred different scenarios; I have to create a world for him to live in so I can understand him. His name is Joe; he has a dog, a black Labrador. He met his lost true love in this bookshop on a Saturday, so every week he comes back to remember a time gone by.

Secondly, I write to get the characters I see and hear out of my head. I recognize there is a fine line between this and a trip to the special place with a padded cell but, nevertheless, it’s true. Imaginary people—my characters—talk to me. They follow me around while I’m cooking dinner, and it’s just easy to get them onto paper where they can cause less trouble, like wrangling a toddler into a playpen.

Thirdly, I write to entertain myself. I grew up in a home where people said funny stuff all day, so I guess it is my own way of recreating my childhood. Some people build sand castles or model airplanes; I create funny people, saying funny stuff and doing funny things.

What you may notice about all of these practices is none of them are for other people. However, once you have completed a piece of work, the writer is supposed to send it out to the world.

So now I stand at a brand new threshold to release my book—“The Rejected Writer’s Book Club,” a quirky comedy about love, loss and friendship—out into the world and I wonder: how will other people respond? As I throw open the door and shake out the nest, I stand in awe and wonder what this next step will bring…a bit like sending a child out into the world.

Will my book the cross between “The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood” and “The Jane Austin Book Club” sit up straight in other people’s company? Say the right thing and remember not to slurp its soup? Will people love all those crazy characters as I have? And will they get them?

Good or bad, it’s time for the world to receive it now. And maybe, just maybe, I will think again about calling myself a writer.

Yes, being a writer is a curious business, all right.

Suzanne Kelman is an awarding-winning screenwriter of a screenplay that has recently been optioned.

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August 1, 2014
Neighbors—Dancing in the Streets, or in The Cash Store, at Bayview
BY AUDREY NEUBAUER
PHOTOS BY DAVID WELTON
WLM Contributors
July 30, 2014

While dancing in the rain may seem like a good idea in movies and books, we all know that a little water in your boots can ruin a perfectly good evening. However, we also know that nothing can stop Whidbey Islanders from having a good time, and a little rain certainly won’t stop a Bayview Street Dance from happening in full swing.

The crowd began to gather a little before 6 p.m. and the show started in a relaxed fashion about ten minutes later. Sarungano, a four-woman vocal ensemble from Whidbey Island, began the show accompanied by special guest Dr. Sheasby Matiure all the way from Zimbabwe.

Sarungano means “story-teller” in the Zimbabwean Shona language, and the band does nothing if not live up to their name. Hauntingly beautiful harmonies floated, uninhibited, into the open space in the Bayview Cash Store, where people swayed or leaned against the walls with their eyes closed as they took in the music in their own way.

The first dancers of the night arrived on the scene shortly after Sarungano began. Two blonde sisters with colorful dresses to twirl in—laughing and dancing hand-in-hand on the otherwise empty dance floor as the crowd looked on. Their perpetual giggling was contagious and many people smiled as they watched the older girl twirl her sister carelessly in her outstretched arms.

As the music transitioned from the gentle melodies of Sarungano to the lively beats of the Seattle-based marimba band Ruzivo, more people began to join the girls on the dance floor, making the floor shake along to the music. Soon, the floor in front of the marimbas was packed with smiling and dancing people. The two blonde girls continued to dance in the middle, oblivious to the fact that they were the pioneers of that night’s dancing movement.

Upon returning to the fringe of the room after dancing a while with his girls, their father informed me that this was their second year of coming to the Bayview for the street dances, a community event that the girls greatly look forward to.

This is the exact sense of community that Goosefoot Director of Programs Marian Myszkowski envisions as she talks about the dances.

“We like to think of this as a true community event,” said Marian—“where friends and families come to hang out together and have fun, where new friends are made and old friendships rekindled.”

And a true community event it certainly is—children dancing with their parents, couples leaning against the wall and talking, friends meeting up to share a beer or two on the balcony overlooking the dancers, families meeting for dinner in Tres Gringos or Basil Café where the music can still be heard….and while food and drink is easily accessible, all are welcome and encouraged to come, just to dance, as well.

Marian pointed out the importance of this part of the dances, as well. “It’s important to us that our events remain not only free, but also non-commercial,” she said with a smile. “You won’t find food or merchandise booths; folks are welcome to eat and drink at the Cash Store merchants or bring their own picnic dinner to enjoy on the grounds.”

Whether it be indoors in the warm and lovely Cash Store or outside beneath the evening island sky, the Bayview street dances are a fun and lively expression of the Whidbey Island community in its entirety.

Make sure to mark your calendar for these upcoming street dance artists and come join the fun. I hope to see you there!
- July 30—PeTE
- August 13—Deja Blooze
- August 27—Western Heroes
(All photos by David Welton)

Audrey Neubauer is a soon-to-be senior in high school who has decided to try her hand at journalism this summer.

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July 30, 2014
A recent trip made me truly appreciate the special life style of Whidbey

Carolyn and Rich Tamler in Seville (photo by a friendly passerby)

BY CAROLYN TAMLER
July 24, 2014

My husband and I just returned from a wonderful trip with some Whidbey friends that took us to Italy, France and Spain. We were gone for a month and visited several places in Northern Italy, the Rhone Valley and Provence region of France, Southern Spain and ended in Barcelona.

People ask me what was my favorite place. I cannot come up with one answer: everywhere was my favorite place. What really stands out in my mind more than the places we toured is my impression of the people in all of the places we went. I know it’s a generalization and it’s just my interpretation of what I was seeing, but people in all the places we visited seemed so much more relaxed and happy than my experience with Americans in most of the places I have been to in our country.

We never ran into a single rude or abrupt person. Even though none of us spoke any of the languages fluently, everywhere we went people were very eager to help us and talk with us. We had several over-the-top experiences where someone reached out to us and helped us figure out a train connection, or encouraged us to visit them someday; in one instance a man got us “private” tickets for an amazing concert and has since sent me emails that gave me the translations for what we heard and provided us with additional information and videos.

All of our meals were excellent (Does anyone know why the coffee in these countries is sooooo good?). We quickly got into the local mode and found ourselves having long, relaxed mealtimes.

Charles Terry, Betsy MacGregor and Penny Cabot (all Whidbey folk) enjoying tapas in Ronda, Spain with Carolyn (photo by Rich Tamler)

In the evenings we would go to areas with several restaurants that had outdoor seating. We saw people having extended dinners with their friends, talking enthusiastically and laughing. Musicians were frequently in our midst. Whichever place we chose, we had excellent, fresh food and we never had a waiter bring us a check until we asked for it.

As I mentioned, I have seldom had this kind of feeling when I have visited American cities. My experience here is that most Americans seem anxious, worried about their jobs, their money, their futures. Mealtimes often consist of grabbing a quick bite somewhere.

But, fortunately for us, we returned to Whidbey at the end of our adventures. Within our first week home, we visited farmer’s markets, walked around Langley, heard live music playing to happy crowds and noticed how friendly people are just visiting the local grocery stores (I have often told folks off-island that when I see someone I know in the grocery store, we don’t just say “Hello,” we have to hug and get caught up on each other’s doings).

Carolyn and Rich Tamler, Betsy MacGregor and Charles Terry in Cinque Terre, Italy (photo by a friendly passerby)

Shortly after we returned, we went to Ott & Murphy to hear LocoMotion and heard them call out to tourists and welcome them. And, by the end of their sets, the room was filled with people dancing.

I know there are likely several places in America that project a more relaxed and happy feeling. But, I love and appreciate my home on Whidbey. We are blessed to live in a community, not just a place, where I believe there is a genuine feeling of caring for one another.

I hope we can always keep it that way.

Carolyn Tamler was a marketing research and community involvement consultant in the Seattle Area for many years before moving to Whidbey Island, where she has become known as a writer who enjoys telling the stories about the many businesses, entrepreneurs and interesting places on the island.

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July 25, 2014
Play That Song Again | All The Right Junk In All The Right Places—Your Top Five Songs of Summer

BY ERIK CHRISTENSEN
July 18, 2014

I moved to Whidbey Island in the summer of 1987. One of my first and most endearing memories of my 27 summers here is discovering what I’ve come to call the “summertime silhouette.” Want to try it? Get in your car in the early evening of a summer day and, as you drive south on Hwy. 20, check out how the sun dips behind the Olympic mountains to the west. As the sun disappears, the sky reddens and the razor-sharp relief of the Olympics comes in to view—dark, shadowy, a perfect outline, like a child’s shadow-box.

August sunset (photo by Matt Wilcox)

More than barbeque, more than warm weather, more even than the Fort Casey pool, my enduring image of summer on Whidbey is driving in a car on Highway 20, listening to music and watching that sun sink behind those mountains.

It would be easy to make a summer playlist full of breezy, wonderful summer songs: The Beach Boys, Mungo Jerry, Jan and Dean, Jimmy Buffett, and all the rest. But I need some bittersweet with my summer songs, some wistfulness about the passage of time and the promises that summer brings. Musically, it’s that moment between dark and light, the sun slowly fading behind the mountains and giving one last thoughtful tableaux. So roll down that car window, enjoy the warm breeze, and look to the horizon. Here are the All-Time Top Five Songs of Summer:

Sunset moon (photo by Matt Wilcox)

Number five: “Hot Fun in the Summertime” Sly and the Family Stone were the American ideal to me as I heard their songs blasting out of a plastic AM radio in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. A mix of black, white, male, female, rock, soul, funk, social commentary, and mindless dance music—it doesn’t get much better:

I cloud nine when I want to

Out of school, yeah

County fair in the country sun

And everything, it’s true, ooh, yeah

Sadly, like the American Dream, like the sun going behind the mountains, it couldn’t last—drugs, greed, excess, and bad decisions doomed this amazing group. But, we’re left with a few shining moments.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=4B5EtjNNf60

Number four: “Roadrunner” by the Greg Kihn Band. Originally written by the much-loved Bostonian Jonathan Richman, the Greg Kihn version is the PERFECT song to hear coming out of your car’s speakers. I can almost smell the Dick’s Deluxe hamburgers and feel the warm breeze in the dashboard lights:

Gonna drive past the Stop and Shop

With the radio on

I’m in love with the modern world

I’m in love with the modern girls

Massachusetts when it’s late at night

I got the radio on….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSogGDsoxbw

Number three: “Summer’s Gone” by Buffalo Tom. Never a better metaphor used to capture the temporary dreams of summer—“write it in the sand, in the sand.” Bonus points for mentioning my own childhood baseball hero—no summer list is complete without baseball…

Where’ve my heroes gone today?

Mick and Keith and Willie Mays

Broken windows, trails outside

I can take you for a ride

Summer’s gone a summer song

You’ve wasted every day, every day

Summer’s gone, can’t wipe it off my hands

Write it in the sand, in the sand

In the sand

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vx-2DMJJDIo

Number two: “Fourth of July, Asbury Park” One of those funky, early-era Bruce Springsteen songs, released long before he became an Americana, flag-waving, fist-in-the-air icon. Powered by an accordion and tuba (on a rock and roll record! Praise Jesus, I miss the 1970s) this song is lonely, hopeful and filled with longing and sorrow. Bruce tackles the clichéd carnival boardwalk scene and injects it with honest feeling and emotion:

Oh, Sandy, the aurora is rising behind us

Those pier lights, our carnival life forever

Love me tonight

For I may never see you again

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88i0S7ikt18

And the number one, Top Five Song of Summer: “All About That Bass” by Meagan Trainor. That’s right, no nostalgia—the top song is from this very summer. Much like “Pumped Up Kicks” a few years ago, my daughter Hannah has hipped me to the undisputed, all-encompassing song of 2014. More defiant than bittersweet, it rails against stereotypes and pleads with girls to embrace a positive self-image:

If you got beauty, beauty, just raise ’em up 

‘Cause every inch of you is perfect 

From the bottom to the top

Pointed social commentary wrapped in an absolute saccharine, bubble gum pop song. Genius. Every element of a perfect summer song, never done better since the 1950s: double-hit on the snare drum, doo-wop backing vocals, go-go dancing. Go ahead and click on the link if you dare. You’ll be singing it for weeks. You will dance. You will smile. You will want to drive in a car and watch the summertime silhouette. You have been warned.

Enjoy your summer.

You know I won’t be no stick-figure, silicone Barbie doll

So, if that’s what’s you’re into 

Then go ahead and move along

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PCkvCPvDXk

Erik Christensen teaches English at Oak Harbor High School, writes songs and poetry, and prefers a chocolate shake with his Dick’s Deluxe cheeseburger.

Erik plays with the Jacobs Road Band on Saturday, July 19 at the Oak Harbor Tavern, and the Evergreen State Fair in Monroe on Sunday, August 31; the Erik Christensen Band plays at Blooms Winery in Bayview from 3 to 5 p.m. on Sunday, August 10.

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WLM stories and blogs are copyrighted and all rights are reserved. Linking is permitted. To request permission to use or reprint content from this site, email info@whidbeylifemagazine.org.

July 19, 2014
Sirithiri | Daisies sweeping up the hillsides

BY SIRI BARDARSON
July 11, 2014

Have you noticed the ox-eye daisy? Its blank stare skyward, zoned out like a cat in a sunbeam; it is the harbinger of summer.

Only a few days ago, the fields were blanketed in a patchwork of green grasses: citron, neon green, blue-green with a touch of rust red on the grass heads, mossy and silvery green—each shade polarized by gray skies and soft rain.

It happened like this. Mother Nature glanced at her calendar, not at all surprised that the Solstice had arrived. It was the middle of the night and she was star-gazing, (maybe that’s where she got the idea, that smattering of diamonds on blue velvet). She laughed a hearty laugh with her mouth wide open and her teeth showing and then she announced, “Summer.” In an instant, the fields turned yellow and the daises followed as though the Boss Lady had emptied the cosmic hole-punch out over the scene.

Voila! Daisies in the ditches!

Daisies in the Field (sketch by Siri Bardarson)

There is a pullout off the highway across from Greenbank Farm. Recently, I stopped there to sketch the daisies and someone pulled in behind me. A woman announced she was going to pick some daisies; I said I was going to draw them. We chatted, we had both just driven down the highway from Oak Harbor and I remarked that the daisies didn’t grow everywhere. In fact, from where we stood on the little blacktop driveway, to one side a field of daisies grew as far as the eye could see and in the other direction, it was only a sea of yellow grass and not a daisy to be seen.

Some things are some places and not others, like creative ideas.

For a dozen years, I have commuted between the south end of Whidbey and Oak Harbor and I can tell you exactly where my ideas are. After 30 minutes of driving, my brain moves into its right side and I begin to think imagistically. Driving north, it happens at Au Sable prairie at the OLF field and driving south, it happens at Greenbank Farm. At these points in my drive, I enter my dream space as predictably as Solstice showing up for duty. Without having to work at it, everyday things take on new meaning: the plowed field is a rich brown the color of coffee grounds, the daisies are small children with blonde hair or twinkling stars. If I am smart I have brought something to write with because the ideas are coming non-stop—a sketch, a lyric or a sentence. I swerve as I reach into my book bag!

Betty Edwards, author of “Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain,” identified the phenomenon for me when I re-read her seminal book a few years ago. There are certain kinds of tasks that she calls global tasks. If you engage in these for a period of time, the brain activity shifts from the linear left side to its non-verbal right side.

My favorite global activities are driving and sweeping. It was heartening to discover that I am not plain weird!

I never knew why I loved my commute or sweeping and here is how it all synched up. At the end of the school day, I started sweeping. This took a good thirty minutes and, as there were major janitorial budget cuts, I wasn’t squandering taxpayer dollars. I would end up feeling great about the school day and anxious to get home. I would load up and start driving, the outside world—the day’s trouble spots—infringing a little on my right-sided forays, but by the time I reached Greenbank Farm, I had the lyrics to a new song or a sentence that was so perfect I was in love with everything.

Then I would walk into my house and sweep some more.

Ah, to be in love with everything!

I will point out that there are other variables in this equation, like being alone. Yes, solitude is a big part of the endeavor and so I want to qualify the idea of being in love with everything when I am alone. This is easy love: idea love, soul love, flying love, grounded love, my head attached to my heart love and simple love enthusiasm. Like the daisies in the ditches it is part of a good season, fertile ground and the fuel to keep on keepin’ on.

Mother Nature just winked at me and handed me a push broom.

Siri Bardarson is a musician who writes and sketches a lot. She is ecstatically happy when she makes stuff!

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WLM stories and blogs are copyrighted and all rights are reserved. Linking is permitted. To request permission to use or reprint content from this site, email info@whidbeylifemagazine.org.

July 11, 2014
Pigment, Perspective, and Pandas | Creative Independence Day

BY ANNE BELOV
July 4, 2014

If you think about it, all of us who work in the creative pursuits are really independent contractors. Whether we show our work in a gallery, perform with an orchestra or dance in the streets, we owe it to our audience—not to mention to ourselves—to march to the beat of our own drum.

Since this is the week that we celebrate our nation’s independence, let’s celebrate the independent spirits of those in the creative vocations.

I’ve had a lot of occasion to consider my own creative independence in the last couple years and—like the reluctant optimist that I am—I’m trying to look on my not entirely voluntary influx of independence as a good thing. I won’t go into the specifics of all the changes that have pushed me toward more independence recently, but I want to reflect here on the ramifications of these events.

Some artists work and create in a more communal context. Theater companies and orchestras come to mind, but I’ve always been something of an isolationist. Maybe because I was shy as a child, or because I didn’t want anyone else’s input as I try to work out my artistic conundrums, I’ve always worked best alone, in my studio. Here it is; take it or leave it. While I can understand the reasons a gallery owner or editor would say, “I know you are doing that, but we could really sell this,” I know that I do my best work without outside direction. When I listen to someone’s input and, in my gut know that it’s not something I agree with and then do it anyway, I usually regret it.

My most recent project, Pandamorphosis, a wordless picture book, did get some valuable input during the four years that I worked on it, but I had to do some very judicious consideration of what was a valid idea and what had nothing to do with my concept. I had to ignore that which did not serve my story.

Pandamorphosis cover art by Anne Belov

It is in the essential concept of a creative work that an artist needs to be most independent.

I know, I know…I want to make a living from my work and to do that I need to create something that people will want to spend their hard earned dollars on. But I have finally learned (often the hard way) that when I listen to my inner voice (or inner panda), I do my very best work, and that is the work that people want to buy.

In the case of Pandamorphosis, after working on it for nearly four years, I made the rounds of agents and publishers. I got much positive feedback, including some close calls, a few from major publishers. In the end, they all decided it was not right for them at this moment, or was too risky a proposition. I don’t know. If I were in my 30’s, instead of being on the cusp of 60, I might have spent a few more years making the rounds in the traditional publishing world. As I said before, I’m an optimist, but I’m also a realist. The realist in me said, “if you want this book to see the light of day while you can still hold a pen to sign it, you better do it independently.”

So I did. Well, there was a little interlude where I almost published with a publisher, but some stuff happened and the person who coordinated the project suddenly left, and I realized that without her there to champion the work, it would get no attention or promotion. So I took my book and went home.

Did I do the right thing? Well, there are all sorts of right things and I’m as sure as I can be that it was the right thing for right now. You can find Pandamorphosis at Moonraker Books in Langley, and you can be the judge.

Meanwhile, back in the painting studio, I’m gearing up for another Froggwell Biennale at the legendary Froggwell Garden, not to mention a show of paintings at the Rob Schouten Gallery, both in August. I hope to see you there.

Anne Belov is a visual artist, cartoonist and writer living on an island in the Pacific Northwest. You can find her paintings at The Rob Schouten Gallery in Greenbank, WA, her cartoons on her blog The Panda Chronicles and read her guest posts on Whidbey Life Magazine, an on-line journal of arts, food, and culture on Whidbey Island. Her first book was funded by her second successful Kickstarter project. Her only regret in life is that there is no MacArthur Grant awarded for panda satire.

July 4, 2014
The Chief Milkmaid | Summer Bounty!

BY VICKY BROWN
June 27, 2014

Tis the season… of abundance.

The time of the longest, sunniest days of the year when gardens and orchards are starting to provide the rewards of your spring toiling.

Farmers markets are overflowing with fresh, local goods, music is playing, bright colors are everywhere and gorgeous local food beckons you. Farmers smile as you exchange your hard-earned money for their hard-earned wares.

Then Saturday evening arrives. A glorious local dinner has filled your belly and your refrigerator is still full of the bounty. Your garden is producing now, too. What will you do with that extra bunch of beets? Carrots? Turnips? Zucchini?

Fresh carrots and turnips

Preserving food is important. Farmers work hard to grow it. We don’t want waste their efforts, do we?

However, if you’re like me, you find this season offers little time for preserving the bounty. So I’m going to suggest some short cuts.

We are lucky to have a fantastic entrepreneur in our midst. Britt of Britt’s Pickles makes not only delicious pickled goods, but offers a beginning fermenting chamber—with instructions for you to start your own!

I’ve just started playing with fermenting myself.

Britt’s Pickle-ator

But I do have plenty of experience with chips. I practically lived off of kale chips two summers ago, going through at least three to four bunches of kale a week.

This year I’m working on something new. I started playing with veggie chips last summer, and now I’ve gone off the deep end. Forget the salt-soaked tasteless veggie chips you buy in the chips’ aisle at the store. These veggies are already packed with flavor; you’re just going to concentrate that flavor and make them last longer.

Start by slicing your choice of vegetable thin. If you have a mandolin, use it (without grating your thumb!). But if not, don’t fret; a sharp knife will do. Cut your veggies into thin slices, slightly thicker if you prefer a little chew to your chip.

Spritz them with olive oil or other cooking oil. The biggest mistake I make is using too much oil, so be conservative. Sprinkle them with salt and pepper to taste, add other herbs and put them in your oven on broil for a few minutes until they begin to brown.

After a few minutes, flip them and crisp the second side. (If you own a Cook on Clay platter, you might even be able to skip this part by setting your oven at 425F instead of using the broiler.)

Once the chips have cooled, you can store them in a Ziploc with a paper towel, or even a paper bag, in a cool dark spot. They will last much longer—or at least long enough for you to go get another package of chevre to smear on them.

You could also freeze the chips. They are never quite as good, but are still a tasty, healthy treat. When you thaw them, you’ll need to reheat them in the oven to restore crispness.

Golden beets

This method works well for most root vegetables: parsnips, carrots, beets, etc. It also works well for summer squash and zucchini. I have been less thrilled with my results with cucumbers—varieties with fewer seeds and more flesh do better—but I think I will stick with fresh or pickled cucumbers. I tried salad turnips for the first time this week and found they were delicious, especially when sliced very thin; they get a little mushy if they’re too thick.

If you find your beets are too bitter, sprinkle a little sugar along with the salt and pepper on your next batch; once you smear a little chevre on them, they should be tasty without the added sugar.

Chips with a dollop of chèvre

Yes, I use these as crackers for my cheese. I am lucky and don’t need a gluten-free alternative, but sometimes I run out of Tree-Top Baking’s fruit/nut crisps or Midnight Kitchen’s Turner & Bea’s crackers…and I’m always looking for more ways to get more cheese into my mouth!

When tomatoes start filling the market stands, I have a quick cheat for storing those too (once you have too many for your caprese salads). Come see me at Bayview Farmers Market (Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.), and I’ll fill you in!

Now that you know how to enjoy the season of delicious excess, let me help you find all those goodies.

Here is a link to a newly released map of farm stores/shops/stands on the island: http://www.goosefoot.org/pdf/farmstands.pdf (This list will be evolving all the time, so stay tuned. One update is that our farm store also offers goat meat, whey raised pork and other local products.)

Vicky Brown, Chief Milkmaid at the Little Brown Farm, puts her passions on the page writing about food, agriculture and the tender web of community.

All photos by Vicky Brown

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WLM stories and blogs are copyrighted and all rights are reserved. Linking is permitted. To request permission to use or reprint content from this site, email info@whidbeylifemagazine.org.

June 27, 2014
Creativity Cafe’ | Don’t Beat Yourself Up—Create with Curiosity!

BY DEB LUND
June 13, 2014

As my husband sings his way through Japan, I’m here shuttling kids around and off the island to schools, appointments, lessons, practices, performances… Their father returns on Father’s Day, and I told him to be prepared to be a father.

So my writing languishes. My online Continuing Education Course students get shorter feedback comments. My creativity-coaching clients don’t get as many nudges from me.

Being self-employed, I have a difficult boss. She doesn’t pay well, the work is never good enough and she sets unreasonable demands on me—especially when it comes to deadlines. And so, once again, she needs some coaching herself. So, Deb, I’ve been wondering…

Are the kids fed and dressed? Is everyone healthy? Are they getting where they need to be at least most of the time?

Your writing is still there. Remember how you always say writing needs incubation time? This is it!

None of your online students asked for feedback. It’s not even a requirement. They tell you how much they appreciate your comments. Isn’t that enough?

Your creativity-coaching clients know it’s their responsibility to check in with you. When you nudge them, it’s a gift. Reread what they’ve said about how you’ve helped them and take it in this time. Oh, and you extended the six-month folks an extra two months. Doesn’t that mean anything?

Deb—Boss (photo by the author)

Do you beat yourself up too?

What would your ideal best friend tell you in response to what you’ve been telling yourself? If you’re lucky enough to have an ideal friend—ask! And if you’ve been listening to the wrong people—don’t. You can’t see your reflection in a dirty mirror. If you’ve got toxic friends who are almost as bad as your boss, dump them.

Why do we allow all this judgment anyway? Could we learn to evaluate without labeling and comparing? It seems we’re either falsely building ourselves up by shouting out our accomplishments or beating ourselves down before anyone else can. Judgment kills creativity.

Deb—Coach (photo by the author)

There are no mistakes—no right or wrong!—in creativity. You must take risks, you must be willing to fall down and get up again, and you must give up judgment. Or better yet, as Christina Baldwin says, “Replace judgment with curiosity.” (If you’ve followed me at all, you’ve heard this quote before.)

Instead of labeling your actions and outcomes as bad or good, try asking questions and ponder the answers. I wonder why… How… What if…

What would my creative projects and life be like without judgment?

I wonder why I compare and label my work as good or bad?

Where in my life can I replace judgment with curiosity?

And please—Don’t beat yourself up for beating yourself up!

Oh, and when you tell your boss there’s no more beating yourself up, use curiosity instead of judgment. That allows bosses to think the whole thing was their idea. Bosses like that. Curious, isn’t it?

Deb Lund is a creativity coach who helps others stop beating themselves up. She admits to beating herself up quite regularly in the past (and once in a while these days) and also admits to taking her Creativity Coaching Training, in part, to replace her inner critic with an inner creativity coach.

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June 13, 2014
In Search of Truth and Beauty | Traces of the Oracle in Late Spring

BY JONI TAKANIKOS
June 6, 2014

We are all seekers of one kind or another. Some find their answers in church or the Sunday Times, or perhaps both. We may climb a mountain, walk a beach, or maybe get lost in a rich and compelling novel. Sometimes we may seek out an oracle to point us in the right direction like a spiritual compass.

Poetry has held both the questions and the answers for most of my life—my comfort and balm, my celebration of life and its Terrible Beauty. Years ago I was in a poetry workshop that had a focus on putting together a book of poems. Many students had anxiety about just how to order their manuscripts and felt certain there must be a “right” way to go about it.

The first thing our instructor said was, “How many of you read a book of poetry from the first poem to the last? And how many of us usually pick up a book of poetry and open to a page at random?” Sighs of relief were heard throughout the room, and poets know how to sigh; trust me on that.

Oracles standing by (photo by Joni Takanikos)

This is not to say that we shouldn’t put great care and thought into the content and ordered nuances of our poetry manuscripts, or our lives for that matter, but we should be ready to jump to any page when called. That is how I call the oracle into being, with a dose of faith and intention, and then I leap. I think of the particular issue, person or relationship, or I just leave it open to receiving whatever message wants to come through, and I grab a book of poetry off the shelf.

Of course this may lead you to other oracles. You may have the urge to close your eyes, open one of those huge voluminous dictionaries that sit on oak stands and let your index finger be guided to a place on the page. And then—abracadabra, you have a message for your day. But be forewarned; this engagement of the oracle leads to cloud gazing, star watching, moon bathing and lying under giant maples without practically a thought in your head, the answers all lodged in the scattered sunlightdancing its way through the maple leaves.

Here on Whidbey you can find oracles around every bend—in the beauty of the beaches and forests or the lovely Whidbey Island Garden Tour later this month. (Peonies and some iris are notorious for giving the answers to questions you never knew you had.)

If you are in need of a companion book of poetry to take with you on your excursion, you could peruse one of three lovely bookstores in Langley. And in one of them—South Whidbey Commons Coffeehouse Bookstore—a local non-profit that trains young adults to be baristas—you could sit and sip some tea or coffee, leaning in towards the poem that might translate your heart for a moment.

I believe there are signs and signals everywhere if you look for them. One of my dearest friends told me that once, as her Grandma waited in the car while they were shopping at the market, she counted all the people who were smiling as they walked past. She said it was remarkable how many smiling faces she saw among the passersby. But then, she had her eye out for them.

Early Evening in Late Spring

Ten geese flew over in the late afternoon.
Raucous honks announced their flight,
Their tight formation loosened as they
crested toward the edge of the lagoon
stretching to become the sea,
and some part of me traveled with them,
broadly voicing my own arrival
and departure, all at once.
—Joni Takanikos

Joni Takanikos will be singing from 8 to 9 p.m. this Saturday, June 7 at the Thrive Vegan Cafe in Freeland, inaugurating their new outdoor stage. She knows the oracle will be there, and she hopes to catch a glimpse of the Truth and Beauty offered up freely for all of us.

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June 6, 2014
Duff ’n Stuff | Please look up from that screen

BY PATRICIA DUFF
May 30, 2014

My 17-year-old son doesn’t understand why I have to disconnect the Wi-Fi in our house daily, why we have to literally cut him off from the Internet. He thinks that we should let him use his laptop, X-Box, etc. without limits. If we did, I’m sure he would stay in his room continuously with his computer and might only come out for school, eating and to shower. He sees no reason why we should be alarmed by this scenario.

Illustration Artwork for Computer Arts Project mag / issue 121 – March 2009 / The Art of Videogames, Behance. From the portfolio of Seb NIARK1 FERAUT.

I am alarmed.

I’m caught in this technology trap. What happened? When I prepared myself for parenthood, I never dreamed I would have to deal with these seemingly impossible issues of how to keep my children safe from the global internet community; from the insidious addiction of technological instruments; from a dangerously sedentary lifestyle; from living your life with your face looking down at a screen; from a teenager-hood devoid of meeting your friends at that spot in the woods, or at the lake or the local cafe for face-to-face conversations; from the fact that Facebook (and the rest) stealthily rob you of the delicious privacy that we all used to have in our teenage years and the blissful ignorance of parents; from noticing the world through your real time eyes and ears instead of through a screen or headphones. Well, I should have realized it sooner, when I noticed that kids don’t really meet in the backyard anymore to play SPUD, Dodge Ball and Freeze Tag. I feel so old.

When I began parenting, I never considered I would end up here, policing a household connection to the rest of the world. I thought I was doing everything right. I modeled good lifestyle skills; taught my children how to eat well, exercise, engage in conversation with other people, show respect, practice good manners, and how to be curious about the world. We read to the kids every day and evening. We showed them things; we introduced them to music, art, a love of nature and the joy of animals; to fun family vacations and swimming and road trips. They are good kids. They are intelligent and funny. But if I could only get that stupid computer out of my son’s life, it would be better. Where did I go wrong? I made my bed, the voice on my shoulder tells me.

Damn you Bill Gates and Steve Jobs! Damn you Mark Zuckerberg!

I know. It’s not the inventors’ fault. We were wrong to allow too much of it and now we’re paying for it. Now we have to play the “heavy” parents. Now we have to consult psychologists who specialize in the “unmotivated teen.” I worry that my wonderful son will end up one of those pathetic, coming-up-on-middle-age guys with a penchant for spending long hours in dark rooms playing video games and getting fat on beer and Cheetos. Help me!!!

How did this happen? Who told me I could raise people to become well-adjusted adults in this fast-moving culture of strange customs involving devices held in one’s hand and on laps? None of us knew we were going to end up with the generation glued to screens, parents who are charged with defending our young against the succubus that is the Internet? My parents never had this problem. I’m envious of them for this. I know they had their own challenges, that every generation has had to deal with some major cultural changes—but this is different.

Illustration Artwork for Computer Arts Project mag / issue 121 – March 2009 / The Art of Videogames, Behance. From the portfolio of Seb NIARK1 FERAUT.

I am appalled by the number of people I see in public looking down at a screen while they are out in the world. So many people are missing everything!

In the end, I know what we’ve done here for Henry has been our best. He lives with a family who loves him and I know he knows that, even if he hates certain rules of the house.

Let the almighty gods of technology beware—I will defend my young! I will hold up my sword against that great, ensnaring snake-in-the-grass, that Darth Vader of our virtual world, that great unseen succubus (yes, I’ve said it again because it’s the best word for this particular monster), the Internet.

Patricia Duff is a freelance writer and editor and owner of Patricia Duff Writing Services.

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May 30, 2014