Vicki Holmsten

The sun appears to be returning, and we find ourselves dreaming of golf course adventures as we look outside and see grass getting green again. To celebrate spring and the return of golf, we offer this rerun, originally posted on the wildly famous Western New Mexico Lunatic Fringe Golf League blog. (You can look it up. It’s still there.)

Friday, March 11, 2016

At WNMLF League practice today, golfer Joan commented, “I am very happy with almost-par.”  Kudos to Joan. She had several almost-par holes today. We will refrain from embarrassing the other golfer and not refer to her performance.

And so we introduce a new guideline for WNMLF League play—if you get within one stroke of par, you are doing a pretty darn good job.

This seems like homage to another founding guideline for WNMLF: No day that includes golf can be a bad day.

We will not mention the interesting tee shot that went down the dreaded hill on #4 or the ball that was eaten by evil golf sprites on #5 never to be seen again…and a few other creative shots.

The sun is shining, the grass is beginning to green up, and golf seems more possible than it did a month ago.

Cheers. Here’s to another season on the course. See you out there.

I only thought I was finished with that novel. After 14 drafts, a lot of helpful input from others, and what seemed like enough revision, I was ready to send it out. Turns out, it was not ready to go. After a number of rejections that included one agent who read part of the novel, some polite form letters, some abrupt form letters, and some no responses, I sent the manuscript off for a free sample edit.  It seemed to be spot on, so I hired an editor from @DarlingAxe. Michelle Barker turned her professional eye to it and sent me a wonderfully detailed narrative assessment.  So here we go. Sledge hammer and hard hat ready. Meet you on the other side.

This is the house my father built, and where I lived for the first seventeen years of my life. It is gone now, torn down to make way for a suburban mega-mansion. I return there in memory and in dreams. I wrote my first book in my room on the second floor, scrawling the story on West Virginia Brick notepads.  I spun a tale of the twins who lived in the attic and had tantalizing secrets. The Homco Lab Papers. Privately published for only the stuffed animals who lived in my room.