Sunday, July 31, 2011

Update: Demise of the Nut

Coconut sounds empty inside. Mold means it's going into the silver can to the side, and then off to the dumpster.
Crap. Why won't it die? The damn spud isn’t even soft. No water, no dirt, it's not normal. And, sigh, with this much determination to flourish, I'll either soon have to admit it deserves more than a green bowl, or remember I don’t have roots. I could abandon this home to the potato, pack up my laptop and hit the road.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Chatting Tuesday

It's wonderful how many fun, interesting people I've meant on this difficult and relentless journey as a writer, and Rebecca Rose is someone who makes your smile grow wider and wider, you can't help but have a sparkling day if you're lucky enough to be invited to visit with her.

Chat with Rebecca

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Contented Realism nestles beside Sci-fi. Romance in a Bowl.

The coconut doesnt care. It's not branching out, surviving on who knows what, or reaching for a different level of being.
I can't begin to guess who'll rot or go sour first. Hard skinned nut who's happy to simply exist, or exploring sweetie who tries for infinity and beyond.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Is A Picture Worth 92, 000 Words?

No doubt in my mind. There I am, on Main St, USA.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Dreams do Come True. Ashes in Print.

Last night, I faced the tragic truth I’d have to shop when I found my green apple dish soap was completely gone, and yep, no back up bottle. Forced myself to leave dishes in sink, not use laundry soap.

Went to grocery store after work.
Got home. Unpacked. Had forgotten soap. Swore. Went to garage to store case of water.
Found two boxes. Heart stopped. Cell rang. Dad had tractor crisis, needed ride home.
Debated opening boxes. Didn’t. Ran Dad home.

Came back. Held my first print book with my name on it. Sat down for a private moment with the Logan twins. Thought, I wrote that? Interesting. Maybe I’m possessed.
Time froze. Don’t know how long, until I realized I hadn’t stolen dish soap from parents.

Went to nephew's. Not home. Debated breaking in. Didn't. Left copy of Ashes for nephew's girlfriend propped against door.
Drove to friend’s home near my parent’s house. Said sorry for disappearing at her daughter’s wedding the other day and popping home to edit 40-50 pages of a beta read for a crit partner. Put a copy of Ashes in her hands, made her smell the scent of a freshly made print, and to swear not to let her mom read it. Forgot to steal her dish soap, but remembered to take cookies.

Went to parent’s, left copy of Ashes and told them not to read it. (blush) Took their dish soap and went home. Sat down with the twins. Thought, I did write that.
It’s been a good night.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Inde! A Fan! Life Rocks!

It's happened. The moment I've worried about, the reason I have yet to hop into Create Space where print books are set up, and figure out what the hell a wrap around cover is and how to spell out the formatting, whatever to my wonderful cover artist. I got a text a few minutes ago.

Can u fix an error end of chapter nine. The word, through, the r is missing.

I have a fan who cares. He's reading Splintered Energy, found a typo, and he made his wife text me, under the assumption I can do something to fix the problem.
Of course I can't. But I didnt give birth almost 27 years ago for nothing, and my son will surely figure out how to stick one letter in a word so I can reload it on Amazon. But I'll wait in case there's more text messages to come.
The main thing is, I have at least one reader who not only claims to love the book so far, he gets that need to strive for perfection to the very letter.