December 22, after the longest
night of the year. I awake early to do some baking. I look out
the window into the dark—there’s a glimmer of mist in the air.
By the time I finish breakfast and get out the bread baking
machine, it has snowed. At 7 a.m., the surroundings are powdery
white. The birds return to the feeders after a day of hiding
from our resident hawk. I gather the ingredients and pour them
into the bread pan; I switch on the machine. One and a half
hours later, the machine beeps. I remove the dough, beat it
down, fashion it into a round and place it to rise again in the
oven. I start loaf number two.
The tree’s been decorated, the gifts placed under it.
My office is a jumble of wrapping paper and tape, fancy gift
bags and a stack of manuscripts—some waiting for replies, others
added to the fiction schedule for 2010. A few proof copies are
ready to send out.
The first bread round has
doubled and is ready for baking. I give it
the egg wash, cut two deep slices into the top and place it in a
350-degree oven.
The sun begins to shine. The bread bakes. The house
fills with smells of yeast, sugar and egg wash. I set my mental
timer for 45 minutes.
I return to the computer and continue typing this
column. The snow is melting. The bread machine whirrs. The
bread browns…The doves shove each other out of the way to get to
the seed, the neighborhood cat lurks near the feeder, while the
sparrows fly into the safety of the trees. Several neighbors
walk by, bundled up against the chill. Tina, the German
Shepherd across the way barks at them. Arnold, our wire-haired
pointer, wants to go outside and make angels in the snow. He’s
funny that way.
There’s lunch to be made, another round of Portuguese
sweet bread to bake. Some neighbors are coming over this
afternoon for eggnog. The sun shines brightly as the clouds fade
to blue
sky. I mentally compile the menu for Christmas dinner. Our
rural mail carrier’s old converted Jeep has just turned the
corner…And I have a few more packages to wrap.
^ ^ ^
This issue contains the
results of Calliope’s 17th Annual
Fiction Contest and the three winning stories. The nonwinning
stories will be featured throughout 2010. After much thought
and consultation with Cynthia, I’ve decided to wait until late
2010 before considering another Fiction Contest. We have a
backlog now of good stories and, as a “writers’ workshop by
mail,” it is our mission to present all types of fiction to our
readers. The contests, I’m sorry to say, have not generated the
participation we need to offer decent cash prizes, and I admit
I’ve been unwilling to bump up the entry fees anywhere near what
most literary or mainstream fiction contests charge these days
to participate. So, I need your input. What would you consider
to be a “fair” entry fee to a fiction contest? And what are
your views on themes? It’s my belief that themes provoke a
writer’s creativity, instead of revising something already in
their portfolio. But, hey—I could be wrong.
^ ^ ^
As we head into the new
decade, I’d like to thank my co-editors for
their devoted participation in making Calliope the best
little writer’s newsmagazine in the world (oft-said, but true).
And I’d like to personally thank Ralph Sabelhaus for the great
job he has done setting up and maintaining Calliope’s
web site. And also to Cynthia, whose columns continue to make
me chuckle and sometimes weep, and for her creative layouts that
give Calliope its uniqueness in the small press.
And to all of you dear readers—
Best wishes for a happy and productive 2010!
—Sandy