Abby Quillen

Freelance Content Marketing Writer and Editor

Ed Quillen Anthology

Deeper into the Heart of the Rockies

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Boulder 2

We made it home after a wonderful, whirlwind trip to Colorado, and I managed to not even take one majestic mountain photo for you. I didn’t bring my (heavy) SRL Canon with me, thinking that our point-and-shoot would do the job. With two little ones, two carry-ons, one suitcase bursting with clothes, and another sagging with 50 pounds of books, this seemed like a magnificent compromise in the airport. However, the moment we got into our rental car and wound into Turkey Creek Canyon, I longed for my camera. Even more so when our point-and-shoot charger failed us. Fortunately others have recorded bits and pieces of the book events, as evidenced above. That’s me in Boulder presenting at the Center of the American West, courtesy of Allen Best.

Both events were such magical nights that I’m afraid I can’t do them justice. I was honored to share the stage with such a number of distinguished and entertaining readers. If ever I need to produce an audio book, I know some folks who I will call first. The event in Salida, which I somehow managed to plan and execute, was crowded and hummed with an almost palpable electricity.  I talked to more people than I usually see in a month, many of whom I’ve known my entire life. And I loved every single second of it. I can’t believe what a beautiful, generous town I grew up in.

And then to speak and then read on the stage with the likes of historian Patty Limerick, Colorado Supreme Court Justice Gregory Hobbs, former High Country News publishers Ed and Betsy Marston, Denver City Auditor Dennis Gallagher, and so many more at the Center of the American West on my dad’s birthday was such a true honor that I haven’t quite digested it even more than a week later. Afterward I got to spend a couple of days with my almost eighty-two year old grandma and see all of the cousins who I played with for weeks out of every summer as a kid, as well as their big, beautiful families.

And to top it all off, I went to the Colorado Public Radio studio in Centennial, where a plate-glass window revealed the Front Range aglow in sunshine, and talked with Ryan Warner about my dad and the book. You can hear that interview here.

Now, we’re home, and I find myself in that dazed, but slightly frenzied state that descends after a big project is done, when a million ideas for what’s next start churning and you’re not sure which one to pluck out. I’m both missing Colorado and all of the excitement of last week and enjoying the quiet, calm rhythms of home. It helps somehow that the normally soggy Oregon weather has turned Colorado-like — icy and sunny, with bare bone branches twisting into blue sky.

I was taken aback for a moment at both events when I saw the speakers’ copies I’d sent out weeks ago, now with notes scrawled in margins, multicolored post-its jutting from pages, covers bent back. It is theirs now, this book I created that was once just an idea flitting through my mind. Like any long journey, I’ll never be the same as when I set off on it so many months ago, and it feels both glorious and bittersweet to be at the end of it. In some ways, it’s like saying goodbye to my dad all over again, except I feel like I know him just a little bit better after spending this long year with his words.

DITHOTR E Cover

You can learn more about Deeper into the Heart of the Rockies at edquillen.com/anthology.

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Launching the Ed Quillen Anthology

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DITHOTR E Cover

Last week, we launched my dad’s anthology into the world. It’s hard to believe that just a year ago, we started with a huge archive of columns — more than 1500 of them — and created a book. It was quite a journey from there to here, and I’m glad I embarked on it for so many reasons. Most of all, it feels great to honor my dad’s career and preserve some of his writing in a form more lasting than newspaper archives.

Leading and completing a big project, especially one where I got to collaborate with lots of interesting people — has been super satisfying. I got to sharpen lots of skills, including copy writing, copy editing, proofreading, fundraising, public relations, graphic design, and XHTML and CSS coding. I’ve also gotten a lot of practice waiting in line at the post office with two little boys, who strangely transform into bouncing balls of energy the moment they step into public buildings.

After I catch my breath, I’m excited to tackle another publishing project. I’m hooked!

Later this week, my family is heading to Colorado for a couple of book events, including one hosted by the Center of the American West in Boulder. You can learn more about the events and the book here. I’ll likely be away from this space for a couple of weeks. But in the meanwhile, you can find a column by me in Colorado Central Magazine if you live in that area, and look out for the new YES! Magazine to hit the stands. My short feature about Portland’s food carts will be in the winter issue.

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Check Out My Kickstarter!

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Kickstarter Image

My husband and I are in the middle of a Kickstarter campaign to crowdfund for my dad’s new anthology. (I wrote about the project here.) For a brief summary, my dad, who passed away last June, was a columnist for the Denver Post for 26 years, and I’ve been compiling his best columns from 1999 to 2012 into an anthology. It will be released on November 1, and right now we’re raising funds for publication, distribution, and marketing. Come on over and check out our Kickstarter if you’re interested!

The last three weeks have been a whirl of running a Kickstarter, sending out press releases, talking to the media, and setting up events. It’s been a wonderful learning experience, and I can’t wait to share more with you about the process when it’s all over. The best part, hands down, has been the lovely notes I’ve received with stories about my dad and how he impacted different people.

In addition to our Kickstarter project, I’ve been editing one article and writing another. It feels great to be busy. I am constantly in awe of how much I can get done in a day with my husband at home for the summer fielding more of the parenting duties.

Of course, I also take lots of gardening breaks. And just when I thought my garden couldn’t make me any happier, the sunflowers bloomed.

July garden 010

I’ll be here next week with a post about Eugene’s annual car-free festivity. Then I have big plans for August including a writing conference, a family camping trip, and a revamp of New Urban Habitat, so things will likely be quiet around here if I can resist popping in to share pictures of squash and tomatoes. (Red tomatoes in July! Seriously, this is the best gardening season ever.)

What’s growing in your garden or life this summer? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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Anthologizing

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For the past few months, in addition to my usual writing and blogging, I’ve been working on a big project. I’m editing an anthology of my late father Ed Quillen’s columns. Until he passed away in June, my dad was a regular on the op-ed page of The Denver Post for 28 years.

“He was a straight-shooter, a fact-checker, a proud wordsmith, a brilliant thinker, a touch of down-home Colorado the likes of which are rare, ” the editors of The Denver Post wrote in a tribute to him.

It’s true, my dad had an encyclopedic knowledge of Colorado and American history and lore, as well as a knack for humor and crisp writing. As he often liked to say, he also had a “bad attitude,” which meant he had the courage to expose hypocrisy and divulge unpopular truths about politicians, cultural leaders, and social mores. That all adds up to some entertaining writing.

Here’s an excerpt of a column he wrote about Earth Day in 2011:

I propose a yearly Binge Day.

On the other 364 days of the year, we would live simple green lives with local food and drink. We would walk, bicycle or ride public transit to get around. We would eschew gaudy imported novelties, fad electronics destined for quick obsolescence and other trashy food, goods and geegaws.

In other words, we would live prudently and sensibly, following old adages like “Waste not, want not.” The global economy might contract on that account, but it seems to be doing that anyway.

On Binge Day, though, we could pig out on champagne and corn-fed prime rib. We’d rent a Hummer or an Escalade to drive to the shopping mall for an orgy of conspicuous consumption. We’d ignore the recycling bins and just toss our abundant trash in a barrel. And after the once-a-year Binge Day blowout, we’d go back to living sensibly.

Add it up, and Binge Day should be about 364 times better for the environment than Earth Day.

I wrote an essay about editing the anthology of my dad’s columns for the January/February issue of Colorado Central Magazine:

Anthologizing

By Abby Quillen

My four-year-old son Ezra takes a bite of his toast. “What happens when we die?” he asks after he swallows.

I stare at my coffee. “I don’t know.”

“Grandpa knows,” Ezra says.

I nod. We’ve had this conversation quite a few times in the six months since my dad died. It’s like a skipping record, the same question again and again.

“Do you want to hear a story about Grandpa?” I ask.

Ezra nods, and I laser in on a Sunday night in February of 1985. My dad and his friend Allen Best sat at our kitchen table mapping out a backcountry ski trip over Old Monarch Pass. My sister Columbine, nine at the time, wandered in. “Why do I have to go to school tomorrow when you get to go have fun with a friend?” she asked. My dad shrugged and invited her to join them.

“So the next morning, I went to school, and Grandpa and Aunt Col drove up, up, up into the mountains,” I tell Ezra.

He sets down his toast and stares at me, as if he senses the impending doom.

The trip started out as a gentle glide on slick snow. But when they dropped into the trees, they skied into 18 inches of fresh powder. My dad and Allen took turns breaking trail. As the sun went down and the moon rose, they were still slogging along, miles from the car they’d parked at the other side of the pass.

“Finally they stopped, too tired to go on,” I tell Ezra.

His eyes are as round as our breakfast plates. “Did you and Grandma drive up, up, up into the mountains to find them?”
You can read the rest of my essay here.

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