What happened? How to prevent it from happening again?

This is in answer to some questions I'm getting about the short disappearance of Meanderings and Muses, and how it was retrieved.

 Chances are you received a newsletter or saw my post at Facebook regarding the short disappearance of Meanderings and Muses

At the very real risk of being very repetitive, here it is again -

Hi, everyone!

You may have noticed that my blog of 16 years, Meanderings and Muses, disappeared.

Sixteen years.

That blog has served a lot of purposes over the years.

I’ve shared good news and bad. Shed tears. Shared laughter. Pitched a few fits. Hosted good friends. Recommended a few books and authors. Shared some beauty and spotlighted some ugly.

The thoughts of losing it were devastating and incomprehensible.

But—it’s back!

With the help of Maddee, Ryan, and Riley of the amazing and magic-making xuni.com, my Meanderings and Muses is back. I can get back to using it as my journal, my conscience, the place for spreading my news and I hope you will continue to pop in from time to time.

It’s now accessed by this link: kayebarleymusesandmeanders.com

Please bookmark the new link! See you there!

Take care,

XXOO

Kaye

I have received notes from some of you asking what happened - My friend Ann sent this:  "Kaye—What a nightmare. What the hell happened and do you have any advice to others to avoid such a disaster? If my website went down it would be… can’t even go there."

So.

the question "What the hell happened?"

The short answer to that is "I'm really not sure."

Last Wednesday, Feb. 28, I was just working on a post, closed it out for awhile, went back about an hour later to complete it and was met with an ugly screen telling me that Meanderings and Muses had expired.

No prior warning.  

None.

 the question "do you have any advice to others to avoid such a disaster?"

HA!

I jumped through all the hoops placed in my path to no avail.

Each hoop directed me to a different hoop etc etc etc and around and around we went.

And here's where I say, "Thanks Be For A Woman Named Maddee James, her amazing team of Ryan and Riley, her adorable pup Ripley, and the magic of xuni.com.

Seeing as how I successfully managed Meanderings and Muses for 16 years pretty much problem-free (not totally problem-free, but I was able to work through most of them by myself), my best advice to other bloggers is this.  Turn it over to an expert to watch over.  

Find you an expert!

I will continue doing the writing and the publishing, but now I know if I ever see that hateful ugly screen telling me I'm expired (don't you hate that word?!) I can run to Maddee and crew for a fix by experts.  Yay, xuni.com ! 

Y'all, blogging technology has changed.  I now know I am not qualified to troubleshoot, let alone fix, problems I might have been able to do a few years ago.

Find you an expert.

(Speaking of my friend Ann, that would be Ann Medlock, who I ADORE.  Ann is a poet, a novelist, an essayist, a speaker, a storyteller, and a woman who, at age 90, is someone  we can all look at as a role model.  If you haven't read her SILENCE OF THE SEAMAID, I encourage you to do so).

A Father's Day Post - Reposted

originally posted in 2009


Daughters and their daddies.

There's a special bond between the two, and if you grew up with a dad like mine it makes for fun and lovely memories. And some terrific stories when you're all grown up. All grown up maybe, but at times miss your dad so badly you feel as small and unprotected as you did when you were 4 and wanted him to chase away the monsters living in your bedroom closet.

Here are a few of my memories of my dad . . .

From the time I was 3 months old until I was 16 we lived in a wonderful old apartment in Cambridge, Md. The Arcade Apartments. I loved that place. All the rooms were big and spacious and the living room and the dining room had big bay windows with window seats. The kitchen was huge and our stove was an old one that sat up on legs. Remember those old stoves? Anyone else have one of those?

A friend of my mother's, Clara Rook, kept bringing me little chicks one Easter. Those pitiful little chicks that people would dye pink and blue and green at Easter time? AWFUL! and, of course, they usually died fairly quickly, bless their hearts. Well, my sweetie pies didn't. They just kept getting bigger and bigger. In an apartment! Daddy knew I loved those chicks. Every time the subject came up about them being too big to live in an apartment, I would start crying. Finally my dad put some chicken wire around the legs of that old stove and put the chickies in there. You just know how much my mother loved this, right? The chicks just kept growing and one morning I woke up hearing my dad yelling some pretty bad words. The chicks had knocked down the chicken wire and they were all hopping on Mom & Dad's bed. For real.

The chicks went to granny's that day. I was told they were going there so they'd have a big yard to "play" in. uh huh. Sunday Dinner. I'll never get over it. We went to my grandmother's for dinner and the minute I walked into the dining room I spied the fried chicken on platters on the table. Mother tells me I just squalled "My Sweetie Pies! Oh Nooooooo - You've cooked my Sweetie Pies!" and cried and cried and cried. Heartbroken. And nobody ate fried chicken that day.

I have a million memories of that apartment. But let me set the record straight - it wasn't a fancy big city type apartment. This was small town living. And we were not wealthy people; not by any stretch of the imagination. There was no private entrance into our apartment. There was a downstairs lobby, and in the lobby was the entrance to the Arcade Movie Theater. If we were out and arrived home before the movie started, it meant mingling with the line of people buying tickets to see a movie before we would get upstairs and into our apartment. Since it was a small town and everyone knew everyone, it sometimes took awhile to get through all the "Hi, How are You's?" and get up the stairs to home. And, since neither of us had a key to the apartment, which meant it was never locked, we also never knew who might be there waiting for us when we did get home. But it seemed there was always someone. It might have been one of my many aunts or uncle or cousins - there was a gracious plenty of them. Or it might be one of dad's cronies, or one of mother's girlfriends, or friends of mine from school. Amazingly enough now as it might sound, it was never cause for concern back then. It was just an accepted thing. That apartment was, as my mom often said, "Grand Central Station." (There are enough of these stories to keep this little blog of mine going for the next several years.)

There was also a jewelry store owned by Mr. & Mrs. Henry DeVoe in the lobby of the Arcade. Sometimes on Saturdays they would babysit me while Mother did the grocery shopping if Dad had to work. It was the beginning of my love affair with jewelry. Mr. DeVoe was my buddy - he opened my first charge account. Remember the silver bands we called "Friendship Rings?" They were $1.00. Sterling silver bands for $1.00. Can you imagine? Well, I loved those, but would lose them often. He would let me charge one and pay him on installments out of my allowance. About the time I'd have one paid off, I'd lose it and he would let me charge another one.

There was also a beauty shop, and an insurance company and I was in and out of those places like I owned them. I don't know why those people put up with it. If some poor woman was having her hair washed, I'd just march right over while she had her head in the sink and strike up a conversation.

I don't think I'd trade my growing up years in Cambridge for a beezillion dollars.

My dad played basketball, and was apparently quite good. While growing up, I would hear stories about his basketball career. Many times in school my teachers and parents of my friends seemed stunned when realizing who I was - that I could be Alan Wilkinson's daughter and not have any more athletic ability than Adam's house cat was just not understood.

I had been gone from Cambridge for many, many years, and my dad had been gone for many years when Donald and I were home for a visit. We had gone out to the High Spot for dinner with our friends Pam and R.T., who I grew up with and graduated from Cambridge High with. Pam said there was someone in the restaurant she wanted me to meet - he had been a friend of my dad's. When she introduced me, he said he had played ball with my dad and besides my dad being quite talented, he had a trait which he admired even more and that was the simple fact that my dad was also a gentleman - off and on the court. "A good, clean playing ballplayer," he said. and I promptly burst into tears.

It's a lovely thing to have someone remember your dad in such a sweet and simple, exceptionally special way.

He was a very good man, my dad.

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it."
Clarence B. Kelland

1. Lewis, 2. Irvin, 3. Roy, 4. Ethel, 5. Alan (my dad), 6. Pop Pop (Irvin), 7. Belle, 8. Grandmother Laura Mae. Picture taken by older brother Ed

Dad taught me to ride a bike - and I vividly remember when he was trying to teach me how to drive a car he made a comment or two about how the bike learning experience had been a whole lot more fun and less traumatic for both of us.




We were all three HUGE Oriole fans and it was a very big deal and very special occasion for us to go to Baltimore for a game. Not as big a deal as going there for a Colt's game, but still a big deal.





And pretty special to get to Ocean City too. (Think he's wondering "What's with the HAT?!)

Pop Pop's 90th Birthday - July 18, 1965

In front - Aunt Belle, Dad

In back - Uncle Lewis, Pop-Pop, Uncle Irv, Uncle Roy, Aunt Ethel, Uncle Ed

Deep sea fishing - Morehead City, NC

"It's sad when our daddies die. It makes one less person inside."
Pamela Ribon.

On Writing

I love to write.

But, I hate to write while telling myself I need to be doing it.


So, I guess, like Dorothy Parker, " . . .  I love having written."


Here's the thing.

I am proud of "Whimsey: A Novel."  

SO proud


I recently picked it up to re-read.  Something I thought I'd never do because I was tired of Whimsey by the time I finished writing (and rewriting, and rewriting, and rewriting) it.

And then, after the writing . . .

Well, then came all the ups and downs that come with putting out a book - especially a debut novel.

First of all, I had no idea what I was doing.

Secondly, I was "self-publishing," which brings its own set of words whispered behind a raised hand.

Although not as bad as it once was, and even much more "accepted" now than it was in 2013 when Whimsey was published, there was that stigma of "self-published." 

More ups and downs that came with all this were on a more personal level, and truth be told - I'm not sure I'm really tough enough to go through all that again.

Writers say you cannot be thin skinned if you want to be a writer.  Boy Howdy, that is the damned truth.


Anyway.


After re-reading my Whimsey, I'm going to say this.

I like it.

I like it well enough that I would recommend it to friends if I hadn't written it.

I like that it made me smile, and I liked that it made me cry.

It's the book I wanted, for a long time, to write.

I'm proud of the book, I'm proud I'm the author who wrote it.


Then, after reading it, I did something I haven't done in awhile.

I went to Amazon to look at reviews.

There are 71 reviews, which is, I think, a pretty darn fair amount of reviews for a debut novel, self-published.  One with the only promotion coming from me, along with a hearty group of bloggers who were willing to give Whimsey a read and some print.

The reviews I got from well-respected on-line reviewers were very good to pretty good - and I was happy with that.

The reviews on Amazon range from one-star to five stars.  Not unusual.  And, of course, those five star reviews are way more fun to read.

The over-all ranking is 4.1 out of 5 stars - not bad, not bad at all.

What's really fun is knowing that most of the people leaving reviews are people I don't know, never met, never heard of and yet they somehow found my book.  Isn't that amazing?  

I'm truly astonished by this until I remember that I'm a reader who has picked up books by authors I've never heard of and, like many, have loved some of them, while others - not so much.

It just never occurs to me to go to Amazon and leave a negative review, while I can't wait to go and leave a happy little comment for a book I enjoyed.  You won't find the comments I leave under my real name.  Not being a reviewer, I feel silly thinking anyone might give two figs what Kaye Barley might think about a book.  Mainly, I'm just hoping the author will appreciate that there's a reader out there who enjoyed his/her work.

'Course, to the woman who spent $2.00 for a box of 25 books at a yard sale and read 10 pages of Whimsey and hated it - really, really hated it.  Bless your heart.  I hope your $2.00 brought you some joy in the other 24 books.  


What prompted this blog today is the fact that Whimsey is going to be on the shelves of WHSmith Books in Paris.

I sent them a note that I was going to be there next month, would be in their bookstore the evening of their Cara Black event and asked if they would consider stocking a copy or two.

I sent them the "sell sheet" Luan Stauss, owner of Laurel Book Store in Oakland, CA helped me work up when Whimsey was published. Luan was there for me every step of the way - first reader, supporter, a wealth of information on how to do the millions of things that needed to be done - ISBN, distributors, etc.  She ordered and stocked copies.  Every author needs a Luan, especially a first time author.

SIBA was also indispensable.  Through them I was able to send that sell sheet to hundreds of booksellers.  Many of whom agreed to stock my book by either ordering through Ingram, or on consignment.  And practically all of them list it in their on-line ordering inventory.  

Anyway.

Back to WHSmith.

They wrote back within just a couple of hours that they had ordered copies of Whimsey, and were happy to do so.  More than just a couple of copies.

It was a big boost to my ego, and it's what prompted me to pick Whimsey up for a re-read.


A few people have become friends through Facebook because they read and enjoyed Whimsey.  

Samantha Baldwin and Vicki Smith Mitchell, in particular.

They ask, often, how Whimsey #2 is coming.

Well, it's in manuscript form about, I think, maybe at the half way point to being written in its first draft (did I mention I am not a fast writer??!).  

But. 

I don't like it. 

And I have re-worked and re-written the damned thing so many times I have to just put it away. 

Often.  

But it always finds its way back out.  I write a few words, get sick of it and put it away again.  And so it goes.

It's not working out like I thought, and often sounds like Whimsey #1 all over again.  Or, in some places sounds like words just tossed out in a stew of nothing much to brag about.  Ugh.  

So.

WILL there be a Whimsey #2?  No idea.

Except.

I do have an idea that means a totally different point of view which means combing through page by page (again), sentence by sentence (again) and reworking what I've already written (again).  But, I like this idea, and you know, it may be worth it.  Maybe.  I won't know until I try.

And there's a second manuscript in the works.  This one I like.  It takes place in the mountains rather than on the coast.  It's a little darker.  A little sexier.  I need to get back to work on it.


What's keeping me from working on the novels?


Well, truth be told - I like writing "creative non-fiction" better.

Thank you Jungle Red for inviting me to write about anything I want once a month!


I like little memoir type pieces.



I like writing "rants."  (It's good to have your own blog to rant at!).


I like writing about my feelings.  Especially right now when I'm feeling so much.


The feelings are not happy feelings at this stage - they're anger, hurt, fear, and astonishment at our government and where this new guy in our White House is taking us.


Truth of the matter is, if I didn't write out those feelings, I'm not sure I'd be able to get out of bed in the mornings.  


So, maybe I'm not meant to write fiction.  Or maybe I should stick to the short stories I've had some luck finding homes for.  Who knows?


But I do know I will continue writing.  


It's one of the things I do.

Thank You

 

Usually, around this time of the year, I have already sent out invitations to folks inviting them to be a guest blogger in the upcoming year.  I had a note from someone yesterday wondering if they had missed their invite.  It never dawned on me to send a note to everyone explaining we weren't going to be doing a calendar for guest blogs next year - I apologize!!!

 

It's been a delightfully long run of pretty awesome guests, but has run its course, I think.

 

The first Meanderings and Muses post was July 25, 2008.

The first Meanderings and Muses guest blog was January 11, 2009.

And thus began the tradition of guests.  A guest list which has been an impressive line up, if I do say so myself - including:

Avery Aames

Megan Abbott

Patti Abbott

Victoria Abbott

Suzanne Adair

Ellery Adams

Riley Adams

Michael Alatorre

Tasha Alexander

Lou Allin

Beth Anderson

Patty Anderson

Susan Anderson

Donna Andrews

Maggie Barbieri

Donald Barley

Wendy Bartlett

Cara Black

Rachel Brady

Peg Brantley

Duffy Brown

Pat Browning

Brenda Buchanan

Julia Buckley

Robin Burcell

Lucy Burdette

Alafair Burke

Tony Burton

Sarah Byrne

Bill Cameron

Dana Cameron

Chester Campbell

Lillian Stewart Carl

Cathy Lee Carper

Toni McGee Causey

Diane Chamberlain

Joelle Charbonneau

Laura Childs

Jane Cleland

Stacey Cochran

Mark Coggins

Jeff Cohen

P.J. Coldren

Meredith Cole

Reed Farrel Coleman

Alan Cook

Thomas H. Cook

E.J. Copperman

Gary Corby

Shelley Costa

Cleo Coyle

Elizabeth Spann Craig

Bill Crider

Deborah Crombie

Lonnie Cruse

Evelyn David

Hilary Davidson

Krista Davis

Mark De Castrique

Vicki Delany

Deni Dietz

Nan Dillingham

Julie Dolcemaschio

Alice Duncan

Carola Dunn

J.T. Ellison

Hallie Ephron

Linda Fairstein

Nancy Peterson Farina

Robert Fate

Gerrie Ferris Finger

Barbara Fister

Jen Forbus

Barbara Fradkin

Shelly Fredman

Leighton Gage

Kate Gallison

Kaye George

Shane Gericke

Gina Gilmore

Debra Ginsberg

Chris Grabenstein

Andrews Grant

Judith Greber

Beth Groundwater

Carolyn Haines

Tim Hallinan

Denise Hamilton

R.J. Harlick

Rosemary Harris

Libby Fischer Hellman

Sara J. Henry

Sasscer Hill

Beth Hoffman

Judy Hogan

Lesa Holstine

Julie Hyzy

Coco Ihle

Roberta Isleib

Dean James

Nancy Lynn Jarvis

Craig Johnson

Larry Karp

Toni L.P. Kelner

Dana King

Vicki Lane

Bob Levinson

Ken Lewis

N. J. Lindquist

Mary Jane Maffini

Victoria Maffini

Morgan Mandel

Margaret Maron

Nancy Martin

Ashley McConnell

Jenn McKinlay

Marilyn Meredith

Jenny Milchman

Celia Miles

Robin Minnick

Donna Moore

Bobbi Munn

Tim Myers

Patricia Neeley-Dorsey

Radine Trees Nehring

Kris Neri

Scott Nicholson

Doris Ann Norris

Karen Olson

Mike Orenduff

Alan Orloff

Ann Parker

Bronson L. “Bo” Parker

Brad Parks

Sandra Parshall

Louise Penny

Twist Phelan

Dee Phelps

Neil Plakcy

Jonathan Quist

Cornelia Read

Mary Reed

Gillian Roberts

L.J. Roberts

Chris Roerden

Carolyn Rose

S.J. Rozan

Janet Rudolph

Sandra Ruttan

Hank Phillippi Ryan

Karen Schinder

Brandon Seidl

L.J. Sellers

Sarah Shaber

Deborah Sharp

Zoe Sharp

Andi Shechter

Clea Simon

Joanne Campbell Slan

Ben Small

April Smith

Sylvia Dickey Smith

Alexandra Sokoloff

Robin Spano

Earl Staggs

Kelli Stanley

Patricia Stoltey

Niki Strandskov

Pari Noskin Taichert

Marcia Talley

Kathleen Taylor

Pattie Tierny

Elaine Viets

Miranda Phillips Walker

Robert Walker

Kathryn Wall

Mary Welk

Melinda Wells

Jeri Westerson

Molly Weston

Shirley Wetzel

Leslie Wheeler

Sharon Wildwind

Michael Wiley

Simon Wood

Nancy Means Wright

Elizabeth Zelvin

Oh, Lordy - if I have missed anyone or spelled someone's name wrong, blame it on holiday stress (or whatever).  Just let me know, please, so I can fix it!

Not only has Meanderings and Muses had a great list of guest bloggers, I've had some fun and insightful commenters.  Oddly enough, more of the comments have been sent to me directly rather than in the posts, which means I've gotten to know some of you quite well over the years.  You all enrich my life and I thank you.

It was fitting, I think, for Lesa to have been the final guest blogger, as she's one of those who's been here from the beginning.  When I start looking at the names and see how many have come back every year, I'm quite gratified.

When I took a wild chance and sent out that first email inviting guests to come to Meanderings and Muses, I had no idea what I was doing.  

Minutes after hitting "send" I started fretting.  

I mean fretting like you would not believe.

I had gone so far out on a limb inviting some of the people I invited, I have no idea where the nerve came from for me to do that.

How embarrassing it would be for all those people to receive this audacious note and me not receive a single acceptance. 

Instead, within those few minutes, the responses came pouring in.  And next thing I knew I had a year's worth of guests scheduled.

As things go, I ended up going from one guest a month, to a guest a week.  Then it was two guests a week, often with a third squeezed in.

We visited authors' spaces. 

We met authors' pets.

We had conversations with 2 or 3 folks at a time.

We had people open their hearts to share good news, and some bad.

We've cried tears of joy and tears of pain.

And we've slowed down considerable on the guest posts while I've been writing.

But - Meanderings and Muses is still here.  Different, but still here.

You've "listened" while I've ranted, and didn't leave me alone while I cried.  And you've laughed with me. 

You've read what I've written, and allowed me to share my opinions about books, politics, mean people and everything else under the sun.

You've allowed me to share my photography attempts, and stories about my family, my husband and my dog.

You've supported me through publishing two pieces in regional anthologies, a novel and helping Harley write his book.

Hopefully, there will be more of all that in our future.

The guest posts, sadly, are ending with Lesa's.

No more sending out that calendar at the end of the year asking what date(s) guests would like.

It's was a lovely and fun thing, but time to move on, I think.

 

Some of the guests have mentioned seeing a spike in sale while and immediately following their visits. 

 

Many are still getting hits for posts they did several years ago.

 

While most posts have gotten an average of 350 - 400 hits, some have been much, much higher.  The "winner" in the category of highest number of hits is Toni McGee Causey for a piece she did in 2010 - "Positive and Negative Spaces."  It still being discovered and read today and has received close to 4,000 hits.

A lot of you know I have fought with exactly what Meanderings and Muses should be since Day One.  Silly me.  Meanderings and Muses is, always has been, and always will be whatever the day might bring.  It is what it is.  That's what it will continue to be. 

But from now on we'll have no calendar to help us get through the year.  We'll continue taking pictures, reading and talking about books, politics, food, music, the news, and whatever pops into my mind.

It's worked for almost seven years, we'll be here till I run out of things to talk about.

And, truth be told, I think you'll still see a guest here from time to time.

Someone, after all, might have a new book coming out they'll want to tell you about.  We'll see.

In the meantime, I hope you'll continue to drop by.  Some days, I'll be here, some days I won't.  But I'll always be lurking just around the corner, soon to appear once again.

And again,

and again.

The Puzzlement That is Meanderings and Muses.

 - - - - or

have blogs become passé?

Some people say they have.  And perhaps they're right.

Whatever.


I'm only going to worry about my own house, so to speak.

Meanderings and Muses started on a whim a couple years back and became more than I expected and way more than I hoped for.

And, just when I start thinking perhaps it has "done its thing" and that it might be time for us to hang up our spurs, I receive an email from one of my guest bloggers telling me how their sales spiked while they were here.  


In one case awhile back, someone brand new to the business let me know that I had helped in getting their name out there and not only did their sales go up during their visit, they stayed on a steady increase for about 4 months.  Word of mouth will continue to be a book's best friend, I do believe.  (And a blog's best friend - another topic for another day).


We've always been a place that gets a fair amount of hits.  Some days we get an astonishing number of hits.  But we've also been a place where people don't leave too many comments.  That used to bother me and I'd fret and I'd worry and now I finally realize, "it is what it is."


As long as I get the kind of feedback I do regarding helping writers find new readers, and helping readers find new writers, then I'm doing exactly what I want to do.  and life is good.  

The bonus is that I have a spot where I can jot down my own little scribblings.  I love that.  I can rant, I can post photos I love, I can cry a little, I can give a shout out and virtual hug to someone (or a virtual smack up side the head) or I can do a virtual happy dance in celebration of all good things life has handed me.  I can write.  All things I've done here, all things I will continue to do here for, I hope, a long long while.


But, I'm also thinking quite seriously about exactly what Meanderings and Muses will be next year.  I know one thing for sure - it's going to be a bit different.  But before I fully make up my mind just how different, I'd like to hear from you.  If any of you would like to tell me what you'd like to see here next year, I'd love to hear.  Tell me what you've enjoyed here.  Tell me what you haven't enjoyed.  And in a couple months, I'll let you know what to expect.  Whatever that might be, I hope you'll still be with me.  You've made this a fun and rewarding endeavor, and I thank you. 


So - step through the door, have a seat, tell me what you think . . . .

Kaye