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Writings of Andrea W. LeDew
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So glad you have signed up to receive the For Random Learning Comes Newsletter! This is the one hundred and twenty-third edition.
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Those of you who follow me on social media will know that this was a busy week for writing, given the prolificacy (and profligacy) of current events material to work with.
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During the Biden years, I had fewer moments of inspiration/exasperation resulting in rhymes, but the first Trump administration gave me plenty to pontificate about. Hashtag "Thirty Days" on my blog will show you a selection I gathered together in 2020, during the thirty days before the election. Looks like this time around may be just as fruitful.
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Since the same brain cells get a workout, whether I'm writing poetry or prose, my novel always seems to suffer when poetry gets the best of me.
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I have three poems for you with varying degrees of subtlety. The most recent is Left Unattended, which deals with what happens when our attention strays from important things. The lovely photo is a close up of two upper shelves in a bookcase, stuffed with old shoes.
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My second poem is called Private School. The photo here is of a cannister of chocolate pieces with school supplies behind them. The chocolate pieces remind me of my son's early school experience, where chocolate was used to induce obedience to commands in his special ed classroom. I always thought that a little Pavlovian.
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The poem itself calls up images of a strict private school, such as one might see on a British mystery, set in the early twentieth century or on a Catholic school from the olden days. Another image that sticks in my mind is a piece of Austrian literature, by Robert Musil, Die Verwirrungen des Zoeglings Toerless (1906) (The Confusions of Young Toerless) which recounts lots of bullying and sadism at an all male private school. Speaking of Austrian-set work, is anyone else loving Vienna Blood on PBS Masterpiece? Beautifully done.
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Current events and the brash flurry of executive orders had caused me to think, what is an analogous setting, in which complete obedience is demanded of us? Private school, as portrayed in film anyway, seemed to fit the bill. Its parallels to the kind of state an authoritarian might desire to institute are obvious.
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Finally, I wrote a bit about the chilly weather we were having (today we were closer to the 80's again) and how a cold snap on collards can improve the taste. The poem is called A Kiss of Frost. It's a kind of fable, to encourage people not to despise adversity or try to escape experiencing it, but to grow stronger in response to it. So many people today, who did not get their way in the last election, seem inclined to tune out. This does not seem wise to me.
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On the much heralded novel, slight progress has been made . Since January 14th it has grown from 70,957 words (361 pages double-spaced) to 74,287 words (377 pages.)
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I also did do a little more research on self-publishing, to my discouragement. The rewards, even if you do sell books, seems quite miniscule compared to the effort required to earn each dollar. It feels a lot like selling a house in which you have almost no equity, even though you are the person who has put every stone in place, yourself.
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This weekend is the Sunshine State Book Festival in Gaineville and I know some writers who are going, but my transportation issues continue. Too many adult kids, too few cars, too little energy. And I really should clean my house before visitors come.
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I do plan to check out at least some part of Tropicon in St Augustine which starts around the 19th of February, so I will delay the gratification of such events till then, other than to visit a local bookstore or two.
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I read the line in my last newsletter where I mentioned travel opportunities that looked enticing. Well, that is the nature of travel, isn't it? One was a English writing tour, one was a tour in England that focused on places associated with novels, including Agatha Christie's home and the place they filmed Poldark. Jane Austen's home, which I visited in 2023 was also on that tour.
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I also stumbled upon the site for the Orient Express, which apparently still exists in a modern iteration, and it has tours of Britain as well. The British coach was apparently designed by filmmaker Wes Andersen, of whom I am a huge fan, and the interior looks beautiful. That tour is beyond pricey, and will definitely have to wait until the bestseller royalties start streaming in. Don't hold your breath.
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What this tells me is that I am getting the travel bug again and will have to scratch that itch somehow, yet to be determined. After I got back from England I wanted nothing to do with the cramped inside of an airplane for at least twelve months! You can look at a few of my impressions and photos from my 2023 trip in the first two posts below. The rest are all listed as Travelogues in search.
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The other thought in the back of my mind is that it has been forty years since I last set foot in Germany, and I have a bit of Heimweh for my adopted home.
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Hope all is well with you and yours!
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Travelogue South England Trip: Parham House and Petworth House
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A travel post about my trip to Parham House and Petworth House on our tour of South England.
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Travelogue April-May 2023: Beginnings of the Stately Homes Tour
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This travel post talks about several days spent touring destinations in England in April-May 2023, including Hastings, Rye, Polesdon Lacey, Standen and South Lodge Hotel and Spa.
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So Close and Yet So Far
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This essay discusses the Semiquincentennial celebration and compares it with Fourths of Years gone by.
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Drawing
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A poem on redistricting, the drawing of new districts to serve the ruling party's political purposes, with the blessing of the Supreme Court and with enthusiasm unchecked by either the people's will nor the State's Constitutional provisions.
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Attempt
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A poem describing the swirling emotions on and offline provoked by the attempted assassination of President Trump at the dinner for the press. Caveat: I do not doubt the attempt on his life was real. P.S. The photo is an attempt at beauty.
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Approaching May 1st, 2026, Anniversary of The Great Fire, Jacksonville, FL
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A poem about a very dry spring in Florida which calls to mind the terrible fire which consumed Jacksonville early in the 20th century.
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Smiles
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This poem analyzes the loss of reputation of the US in the eyes of its closest allies, and the attitude it projects, about that loss.
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