A new chapter

No, it's not a new chapter in a book I am writing. I am opening a new chapter in my life, or I should say, our lives.

Shortly after I posted the last blog, Jim fell while putting ant poison on some fire ant hills that had sprung up after a rain. He didn't seem too bad, just shaken. This was on a Friday. Sunday morning he was in a lot of pain, so I took him to the ER, where they did an X-ray and found a broken rib. Since you can't do anything for a broken rib, they gave him pain pills and sent him home.

On Tuesday, Oct. 13, he was unable to get up from his chair. This has happened before, and as I have done before, I called EMS. (I have since learned these spells of total weakness are caused by a sudden drop in blood pressure.) The hospital did more X-rays and admitted him for three days. On Friday, he was sent to Anson Health and Rehab for therapy as he had lost so much weight and was very weak...almost anorexic. I had not realized how much weight he had lost. Also, the doctor there told us he had broken three ribs and also had an old stress fracture in his back!

Jim has A-Fib, and for the past weeks the doctors at rehab and Sanger Clinic (cardiologists) have been juggling medication, almost daily, to try and control the low blood pressure and rapid heartbeat. If they fix one, the other acts up!

After six weeks in rehab and a few successful visits home (including Thanksgiving Day) we looked forward to his discharge. He had gained some weight and getting around well with his walker.

Then, last Monday night, he fell again while getting ready for bed. This time he broke his left hip and was sent immediately to CMC-Union, a hospital in Monroe which is 30+ miles up the road. They operated the next day to insert a rod from hip to knee and another rod into the ball joint to stabilize the hip. I have to say his cardiologist is very good, she visited every day while he was in CMC-Union and monitored him closely.

Saturday night around 9:30  p.m. he was sent back to rehab.

He has been disoriented, which I am assured is the result of the anesthetic and not permanent. And, he isn't eating...again. I am making sure to be there at meal times to coax him into eating something. They have started therapy...again.

I'm not certain what this bodes for the future, but it looks now as if he will not be as active as he was and will need a lot of care. I may not be able to leave him alone, as he is stubborn and if he wants to do something he will do it against all advice--as witness his getting ready for bed without calling an aide for assistance.

This may well be my last posting as I find it  hard to set aside time for writing. Also, as seen by the lack of followers and comments, no one is reading it anyway :)

You can keep up with me via Facebook (I have two pages, Sandy Bruney for my friends and relations and a work-related page, Sandra Z. Bruney, for announcements about my books and other writing-related tidbits). I also write another blog about my writing journey (I do meander from time to time) and if you want to pop in once in awhile (or even better, follow) it is Mimosa Mornings Writers.

And of course, I love to hear from everyone by email.

But who knows? The situation may improve or turn out not to be a dire as I imagine, and I will be back!

Til then, adieu.

Sandy

A Question of Time

I am delighted to announce that the final e-book in the Question trilogy releases Oct. 13.

I will miss Nathan and Caroline, and wish them well in their further adventures.

Here's an excerpt from the book: Nathan and Fitz visit the theater to see if the magician Manzini is their old foe Rasmussen in disguise, and if he can really teleport himself as he claims...

A Question of Time

"In time, there are infinite places to hide a king."

Nathan and Fitz joined the line of people waiting to enter Ford’s Theatre. An anticipatory buzz rose, and the mood was merry, with laughing comments rising above the hubbub.

“My friend says he couldn’t believe his eyes…”

“Can’t be done, must be some kind of illusion…”

“There was a case a few years ago where a man disappeared in New York and turned up in New Jersey…”
 
“No, they proved it was two men, identical twins…”

At last the doors opened and the line began to move. Nathan and Fitz found their seats and settled in to wait.

As before, the opening tricks were unimaginative. This time, however, the crowd did not react as they had the first night. They were willing to wait until the climax, as if it were a price they had agreed to pay.

Restless, Fitz scanned the audience. “Hello!” he said softly, and poked Nathan in the ribs. “See there, third row, in the center. Is that who I think it is?”

Nathan craned his neck. “I believe you are right. I’m not surprised. The king often attends public events, thinking he is unrecognized. There are bodyguards on either side of him, I’m glad to see.”

At last it came time for the final trick. This time, Manzini changed his routine.

“Some people have said the box is rigged, leading to an underground passage. I invite a member of the audience to come on the stage and inspect it. Who will volunteer? You, sir?” He pointed at the third row.

A tall figure nodded and rose.

“He isn’t!” Nathan clenched his fists in frustration.

“It appears as if he is. Young fool.” Fitz half rose to his feet, but was sharply yanked back by the man behind him. He turned and glared, and the man quickly let go and slunk into his seat.

“He carries his democratic leanings too far,” Nathan said, equally alarmed.

The king made his way to the stage, followed by his bodyguards, who both looked sheepish. Vaulting onto the boards instead of taking the steps at the side of the stage, King Thomas Jefferson the Fourth strode to the center of the boards.

“Look as long as you like,” the maestro invited. “Do you see anything like a false door?”
 
“I do not,” the young monarch said in his clear tenor. “Everything seems aboveboard.”

“Take a closer look inside. Step in, if you will.”

The king hesitated a moment, then stepped inside the booth.

What happened next was described in as many variations as there were witnesses, but Nathan and Fitz agreed on one thing— Maestro Manzini pushed the king forward and stepped into the box behind him. His assistant slammed the door shut and stood back.

The house was silent. Minutes passed, and people began to murmur. Then shouts went up.

The assistant, as alarmed as anyone else, opened the door to the booth.

It was empty. The king and the maestro had disappeared.

As the minutes ticked past, it soon became apparent they were not going to come back.

I am the portulaca

Summer is coming to a close.

Earth-shattering news, right? I'm suspecting those above the Mason-Dixon line are sorry to see the approach of fall, while those of us down South are praying for summer to end.

Yes, it's been that hot. Record-breaking temps in the 90s and over for weeks on end.

We did get some rain finally the last two days. Too late for my astilbe, which succumbed to some
kind of fungus. My friend the Master Gardener told me she had transplanted some  from Pennsylvania when she moved to North Carolina, but they only lasted two seasons. So I guess I will count that as a lesson learned.

I replaced them with some echibeckia, a cross between a cone flower and a brown-eyed Susan. So far they are doing well and look very cheerful down by the creek.

One pot of petunias dried up like an Egyptian mummy while we were on vacation. (The others were parched, but are coming back.) I've always had good luck with portulaca, so I got a hanging basket of them to replace the defunct petunias.

Now, I am going to digress here and admit planting flowers takes a little out of me, particularly when I have to hack at the dry, clay soil with a pickax to loosen it. Like the year, I am reaching not just autumn, but the winter of my days. I can still do a lot of things, but it takes me longer to do them and longer to recover afterward.

So when I looked at the portulaca one evening, I had to chuckle. If there was ever a plant that could illustrate exactly how I feel, it's that one.

Here's why:

  This is me in the morning -- bright and  sassy and ready to move mountains.

And this is me by 5:00 p.m., wilted and droopy, ready for my book and a glass of wine.

The good thing is, the portulaca recovers the next morning and is ready to bloom again.

And so do I.

Taking the wine trail

I admit it -- I've been lax in keeping up with this post. I blame summer and all the activity that goes along with being able to get outdoors. Writing has been put on the back burner.

We did take a trip recently to Pennsylvania. We hadn't been for a few years for many reasons: unreliable car, ill health, etc. But we got a new car, and Jim has been feeling better, so we decided to take the chance. I'm glad we did.

Nancy wanted to go on a wine trail while I was there. We'd done this when she was visiting us in North Carolina, where the industry is getting a fast foothold. Jim and Dick weren't interested, so we set off by ourselves.

To our surprise, there is a plethora of wineries in northeast Ohio. I have to say the signage is not as good as it is in my home state. We zipped by a few before the sign registered. And there was no map or website provided by the state tourism authority as in NC.

Still, we managed to find a few. More than a few, in fact. We couldn't stop at all of them (there's a return trip in my future plans) but we did manage five. This is not to say we drank a bottle of wine at each one, or even a glass. I was driving, so it was a few sips for me. It isn't the wine so much as seeing the different venues. Some have beautiful flower gardens. Some had friendly doggie greeters. One was sited in an old church.

Overhead by another visitor: "Every winery is different!" So true!

We had lunch at one, and dipped fresh artisan bread in oil at another.

But it wasn't so much the drive through the lovely countryside or the thrill of discovery.

It was two sisters being together for a day with no distractions, just talking and laughing and sharing a good time.

Priceless.

Murder in the fifth degree

I told Jim this morning I had a lot to do today.

"You always have a lot to do," he said. I don't know if it was a general observation or a complaint, but my reply was, "I'm never bored."

Between writing and outside chores, I do keep busy. Of course, I save time to read. Once the dinner dishes are done, I head for my chair and book, either an e-book on my iPad or a "real" book from the library.

We have done a lot as far as clearing the encroaching forest around the edge of the back yard. I feel like a pioneer, clearing land for planting! In  fact, I did plant some astilbe around a stump out back. This wasn't easy as I kept running into roots, but it does look better than the bare stump. I think I am channeling my mom, who was an avid gardener.

Then we decided to trim back the quince bush by the deck. Over the years, it has just about taken over.

I stopped pruning when I spied a nest with several eggs in it. "That project will be put on hold until they hatch and fly away," I said.

Mama Thrush didn't much like it that half her shelter had gone, leaving her exposed. But she did go back to the nest. We tiptoed around it, trying not to disturb her.

Then last night I was sitting on the deck when I heard a commotion. The quince bush was shaking as if in a storm. I ran to the railing in time to see Mama Thrush fly past and the neighbor's black-and-white cat jump out of the bush. I threw something at him and screamed at him to go home! He did, limping.

I felt no pity for whatever injury he'd sustained.

Alas, it was the last straw. I haven't seen Mama Thrush on the nest since. In fact, I haven't seen her or her mate at all today.

A minor tragedy in the face of things, but I felt I had caused it by taking away her shelter.

So today I am feeling sad and guilty.

I need to go lose myself in a book.

What's Next?

Since I wrote the last blog, many things have happened. I went to Book 'Em and had a great time meeting other authors and new readers. I sold more books than I expected to and as soon as I got home I signed up for next year.

Also, my latest book was released (sooner than I expected) and so I had to do some promoting to let people know it was available.

And, I am working on the third in the trilogy and discovered I wanted to make a major change in the plot. This meant going back and re-writing several key scenes. And re-writing again until I was satisfied.

Then I bought a book that helped me to make the video you see on the right. It isn't perfect and it isn't full of special effects, but it is my own and I am proud of it. A kind friend suggested the first effort went a  little too fast for her to read all the captions. It didn't take long to go back and add another second to each screen. I hope everyone can read it now. I'm a very fast reader, so I didn't realize what works for me might not work for others.

Now I'm preparing for our annual writers conference this Saturday (April 18). Our little book club has been doing this for seven years now and I am proud of what we do with so few people. Here's a link if you want to see who we have coming: http://www.carolinaswritersconference.org

I want to get as much writing done while I can because I know once the warm weather comes, it's going to be so tempting to go outside and mess around with the yard. I never finished my clearing project last summer, so that will be first on my list. We had a  warm spell and I pruned all the fig trees and now I want to add a bench there. I have a lawn chair down there now for when I need to rest my back, but a bench will look much nicer.

And so it goes. One project leading to another, whether it be in the yard or at my computer.

And Spring come whether we are ready or not -- the greening of the trees, the flowering shrubs and blooming flower beds.

And the pollen. Can't forget the pollen.

Hope this rain washes it all away.

Coming Soon to an e-Reader Near You

The sequel to "A Question of Boundaries," is close to its release date.

In "A Question of Loyalty," Caroline and Nathan face a dangerous conspiracy that threatens both their lives when they take a honeymoon trip down the Mississippi River. Beautiful Floriana is on the edge of revolution and the slightest spark will set it ablaze.

And that spark could be the deaths of the two naive American tourists.

You can read the first few pages on my website www.sandrazbruney.com.

You don't have to read "A Question of Boundaries" first because "A Question of Loyalty" is a stand-alone book. But it might help!

To get a free Kindle copy of "A Question of Boundaries" from Amazon, hop on over to my Facebook author page and leave a comment. I'll select a winner on "A Question of Loyalty" release day.

Here's the link: Sandra Z. Bruney Facebook

Going to Book 'Em!

I've been getting ready to participate in Book 'Em this Saturday. It's an event held in Lumberton at Robeson Community College featuring lots of authors, panels, and book sales. I've gone before, but this year I will be a participant and have a table to display and sell my books. Part of the earnings will go to Book 'Em's literacy program. The idea is to Educate, not Incarcerate. In other words, a youth who reads is less likely to get into trouble.

Getting ready doesn't mean making sure I have books to sell, although that is probably the most important. I need to get people to stop at my table. So I am handing out bookmarks, and little bags of candy that include information about my books. I need signage, so I printed out some signs and now I need something to display them on, like a small easel. I think I have some somewhere... oh, and a tablecloth.

I'm so afraid of forgetting something. It isn't as if I can make the hour and a half trip back home to fetch it! A camera? Good idea.

What I like is I don't have to worry about making change. Volunteers do all the checking out. I hope my biggest problem will be deciding what to write if someone asks me to autograph their purchase.

This is a bigger problem than you might suppose. I have seen other authors post that they have no idea what to write besides their  name. Inspirational authors write Bible verses. I usually end up writing something stupid/silly and wish I could grab the book back and say, "No, no, let me do that again."

As you can tell, I'm both nervous and excited. It's one thing to do a booksigning at the local library or arts council when you know everyone and they are already disposed to be kind. It's another to have someone pick up your book and toss it back on the table in disinterest.

It's like someone looking in the buggy and saying, "My, what an ugly baby!"

Won't happen, of course. People who love books enough to come to a book fair are generally fun to meet and talk to.

And I'm looking forward to meeting lots of readers, and hopefully gain them as fans.

Wish me luck!

When enough is too much

We thought we had dodged the bullet as far as winter weather was concerned. But last night we got a taste of what everyone up north and out west has been suffering, but instead of snow we got freezing rain and sleet. (Jim swears there was a little snow in the mix.)

I can't say we suffered because our power did not go off, although it is off in other parts of the county. The sidewalks and roads were icy this morning but we did not need to go anywhere.

The schools were closed and I just got a reverse 911 call that one of the schools has been opened as a shelter. I couldn't  help but remember the photos I've seen of snowdrifts up in New England. Those folks couldn't get out of their houses to go to a shelter if they wanted to.

Fifteen years ago we did get snow, sixteen inches if I recall the official number. We were snowed in for a week and were without power most of that time. Luckily we had a generator, propane camp stove and lantern, and lots of candles. We had gas logs in the fireplace. So we stayed warm, could heat up soup and coffee, and even read or play Solitaire with a deck of cards.

Since then, we removed the tank to the fireplace logs and I don't know what happened to the generator. We still have candles and the propane lantern and camp stove, which we got out in preparation. Luckily, we didn't need them.

I suppose Mother Nature has to remind us once in awhile who is in charge. Still, my sympathy goes out to those who are snowed in and without electricity. I hope they were better prepared than we were and have heat or are able to get to a shelter.

A little snow and ice gives us a fairyland of glitter and awe. Too much, and it's a catastrophe.

I think I join millions of others in wishing for an early spring.

The virtual mailbox

I worked on a newsletter today and I am about ready to go put my feet up.

Years ago, when I was doing newsletters for some organizations I belonged to (and still belong to some) I did them in Adobe PageMaker and then printed them out and mailed them. I felt a great sense of accomplishment when I finally learned how to set up a data base and print out the address labels.

Later on, I learned to design the newsletter in Word and then I could attach it to an email and send it out into the ether where it miraculously ended up in people's mailboxes. The ones on their computer, of course, not the one at the end of their driveway. This was after more people got computers and email accounts. For awhile I was emailing some and snail mailing the rest. By now, though, most people have email.

But then people upgraded on got different versions of Word or didn't have Word at all but some other word processing program. Not everyone could open the newsletter, so I learned to convert it to a .pdf and send it that way.

Recently, a suggestion was made that I send the newsletter via Mail Chimp. This program allows you to select a template and fill the blanks with your articles and pictures and then send it, not as an attachment, but in the body of the newsletter. Everyone can get it and they don't have to open or download a file.

Simple.

Except I forget from one month to the next how to do it. Today I thought I was finished three times and three times my work got all messed up or disappeared completely.Then I remembered, duh, how I did last month's. I'm going to write it down so I don't forget next month.

Old dogs can learn new tricks, it just takes us longer.

I can't wait to see what the next new big thing is. I suppose I will have to learn to send the darn thing by mental telepathy.

What I do when I should be writing

I love Facebook. I know some people hate it, but when there is nothing on TV, I like to scroll down and watch informational videos.

I mean, if I didn't look at Facebook I would never have known the marshmallow farmers in North Carolina are in trouble because of all this rain:

But I mostly like cat photos. There are lots and lots of cat photos and videos. I like the one where the chubby cats try to squeeze themselves into tiny boxes.

Yes, I'm easily amused.

My youngest son's cats, Moe and Odie, have their own Facebook page. He takes photos of his two cats and they are adorable.

Now, I happen to own the mother of one of those cats, so I have a proprietary interest. So I have been attempting to take a picture of her doing something cute and photogenic.

The trouble is, what she does best is sleep beneath our bed. It's a little hard to get a good shot and the best I've gotten is two scary eyes glowing from under the box springs.

There are two morals to this story:

I am not ever going to be famous on Facebook for my cute cat videos.

I am wasting too much time on Facebook.

Have a great week!

New Year's Resolutions...nah.

It's that time again. Christmas is over, the cookies eaten, The gifts and decorations put away, and the tree taken to the recyle center (if real) or back in its box (if artificial).

We had a wonderful time in St. Simons, Georgia, with family. The grandkids are all teenagers now, so there was no need to entertain them or drag them places. We got to do what we like best, which is to settle back with a good book and nibble. The entire length of the shelf in the kitchen was laden with cookies, candy, cake, and snacks of every kind. 

So after all the indulging, I suppose the next sentence should be "In 2015 I resolve to stick to my diet..."

Not so. In fact, although I enjoyed the goodies, a long walk on the beach whenever the sun shone (which was rare) took care of the extra calories. I came home weighing the same as I did when I left. And since I hit my doctor's recommended weight some time ago and have managed to keep it off, the only diet I'm looking at is eating smarter, not less. and I don't need a resolution for that.

I could resolve to write more, but honestly, I'm writing as fast as I can. I wrote seven pages yesterday, which doesn't seem like much except I had to stop every other sentence to look something up. Even fantasy needs research if it is to sound at all probable.

So what I do resolve is to treat people a little more kindly, to love my family a little more deeply, and to follow God's plan for me wherever it may lead.

Happy New Year!

  

Christmas - who won?

We watched a show last night about people vying to win a prize for the most outstanding Christmas decorations in their house and yard. To say I was flabbergasted is putting it mildly. Two million lights? Hundreds of Disney cutouts? Eight acres of lights and scenes?

Some people take Christmas much too seriously. Even though they say it's "fun" it looked to me like months of hard work just to make their neighbors smile.

Or snarl, if you'd like to sleep at night and can't what with the flashing colored lights and Christmas carols blared out over a loudspeaker.

Another sign of overload is people going into debt for their foreseeable future by buying 52-inch televisions and the latest electronic game players for their kids.

Is this what Christmas has come to? Each year has to be bigger, better, and more expensive?

I challenge you to remember the best Christmas gift you ever received as a child. Maybe something stands out, like a new bike or your own radio (assuming you were a child before cell phones and computers).

I can't remember what was under the tree, but I remember the fun we had decorating it. I remember making paper chains with red and green construction paper and paste made of flour and water. And the year we tried to string popcorn using needle and thread and ending up eating most of it.

I remember coming home from school to the warm aroma of cinnamon and ginger and brown sugar, and seeing the cookies laid on a clean towel, waiting to be iced and sprinkled with colored sugar.

I remember leaving church on Christmas Eve and the stars overhead illuminating the snow that crunched under our feet. Diamonds above and below, a better light show than any electric or LED bulbs.

When did celebrating Christmas become a contest?

When did we forget the simplicity of the first Christmas and its setting? No colored lights there, just the rays of a single star.

Topsy-turvy

What happened?

The weather was perfect with clear Carolina blue skies and balmy temperatures. The trees displayed a palette of red, gold, orange, and yellow.

Then I woke up to dull gray skies and wet, muddy ground covered with damp and soggy leaves. And it is cold! I had to dig out my winter coat.

It can't be winter yet! Winter doesn't officially start until December 21.

But weather doesn't follow a calendar. I have to remember that for half the world, December heralds the lovely days of Spring -- that is, if you identify Spring by warm breezes and flowers popping out of the ground. Which they are, in Australia and South Africa and South America.

I can accept that winter is approaching in my part of the world, because that means holidays, namely Thanksgiving and Christmas. Of course, they celebrate those holidays in the southern hemisphere, too. But I can't imagine saying, "Oh, the forsythia is in bloom -- Thanksgiving must be just around the corner!"

Thanksgiving has to be celebrated on a day when you can see your breath when you step outside, not robins.

And what is Christmas without snow? Not that we get many white Christmases in the South, but there is always that tantalizing hope that this year will see the flakes spiraling down on Christmas Eve.

So I'm not complaining. The old Earth is going to turn and as it does, the seasons will come and go, and the bright blue skies will return. The thing is to enjoy each season while you are in it.

Even if it's raining and cold.

Because then you get to wear your new sweater and drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace.

And you can't do that in July.

A Question of ... getting to work!

I spent most of yesterday on the computer and didn't write a single word.

Yep. and I wasn't looking at Facebook either. I was doing routine maintenance on websites, newsletters, correspondence, uploading a video to Youtube, and you name it. Funny how we can get bogged down in details.

I need to start writing because -- I need to. If that makes sense to anyone but another writer.

And, I need to start the third book in my Boundaries trilogy. Yes, the third. I'm happy to report that the second book, "A Question  of Loyalty," was accepted by Astraea Press. Thank you, Stephanie Taylor, publisher!

This time, Nathan and Caroline honeymoon in the newly accessible country of Floriana. Floriana is composed of Florida, the lower sections of Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana.

The honeymoon starts off with an attempted assassination, and the two gamely try to figure out why and by whom they are targeted.

For those who insist Thomas Jefferson would never have accepted the crown and become king of the United States, all shall be revealed in book three: A Question of --- Something.

So I'd better get going. Even though this series is a fantasy, I do need to do some research. Sigh.

How one thing leads to another

We've all heard the story about the woman who bought new decorator pillows for her sofa and ended up with a new furniture suite, new curtains, new carpet and freshly painted walls.

One thing does lead to another, as I've discovered. Saturday, I decided to clean the den. If you haven't seen my den, let me explain that it was intended to be a two-car garage but the builder decided mid-way to convert it to add more living space. It is a big room, big enough to hold both living room and dining room furniture and leave space to swing the cat. (Not that we do, I hasten to add.)

Anyway, I was washing all the cut glass bowls and knick-knacks I have sitting around on bookcases and the wall-length chest my Dad made when we moved here. It was originally planned to hold the kids' toys, but now that they have moved out, it holds our Christmas and other seasonal stuff.

After washing everything submersible, and dusting every surface, I looked at the windows and thought to myself that they could use a little cleaning. So I took down the curtains and threw them in the washing machine and tackled the windows. In between spraying glass cleaner and wiping the panes dry, I hung the curtains on the line. With the sun and breeze, they dried quickly. And wrinkly.

I finished the windows and swept the floor. My last chore was to iron the curtains and rehang them.

That's when the fun started. The bracket that held the topmost curtain rod had pulled loose and didn't want to go back.

I called Jim, and he concluded that the nail holes were too big and he needed to replace the nails with screws.

He needed a ladder. I had used the little kitchen step stool, and was just able to reach high enough to sort of fling the rod and hope it would slip into place, but he needed a little more height to aim his screwdriver.

So I trudged outside to fetch the eight-foot stepladder we keep under the deck. I didn't want to drag it up the deck stairs and through the kitchen, so I carried it around the house and in through the front door. In case you are wondering, Jim has a balance problem and should not be carrying stepladders around, so that is why the job fell to me.

I know, he shouldn't be climbing ladders either, but he got a little tetchy when I mentioned this. A wise woman  knows when to zipper the lip.

He got the bracket firmly secured and as insurance, redid the lower one as well.

While he was doing that, I got out the spray bottle again and washed the glass on a picture hanging by the window. If I hadn't been standing there watching Jim work, I wouldn't have realized how dirty it had gotten.

When he was finished, I rehung the curtains, took the ladder back outside, then came back inside and swept the floor again because -- did I mention we keep the ladder outside? -- because it dripped clumps of mud all over my clean floor.

So we have a clean room and everything is sparkly and the sun shines brightly through the spotless windows.

And since I have cleaned the den, maybe I ought to clean the living room next...







  

Mom was right

Something we should all remember is that nothing is lost in the vast, labyrinthic universe of the Internet.

Nothing.

This can be a good thing or a bad thing. Recently, I discovered it to be a very good thing, indeed.

I wanted to re-post an essay I'd written over a decade ago. I first published it on an a now-defunct website called "Cancer Can't" that I closed down when I became too lazy busy to  maintain it properly.

Several years and a few computers later, all traces of that website were erased -- at least on any devices I own. So I did a search, putting in the key words: my name, the website name, and the word "cancer."

And up it popped.

I was able to copy and paste it into a new blog, and was happy.

This was a fortunate outcome, but I'm afraid others may have a different, and not so happy, story.

Take the writer who reacted badly to a review she didn't agree with. that was re-posted to oh, probably a million people, making her not only look bad, but stopping her career before it started.

Or the pictures posted during a party at which you may have drunk a tiny bit too much, that no matter how you try, you can't erase. Ever.

Neither of those things happened to me, but I read about them and took them as cautionary tales.

Mom always said if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

Still good advice. The Internet is a great tool, but like a chainsaw, it can be unforgiving.

Oh, if you want to read the essay, it can be found at www.mimosamorningswriters.wordpress.com and scroll down to Oct. 2.

The next Big Thing

Woke up this morning and it is cold outside! I don't mind changes in the weather, but they ought to come softly, a degree or two at a time.

But nature doesn't work that way any more than life does. Things happen with the suddenness of a lightning bolt. One minute we're whistling Dixie and the next we're flat on our backs.

So I'm not complaining about a little drop in the temperature. Right now things are fine and I hope they will stay that way for awhile. Maybe the next Big Thing will be good or maybe it will be not-so-good.

When we're young, things like illness or the death of a loved one come as surprises. They're not supposed to happen.

Then you reach an age where such events are not welcome, but expected. That doesn't mean they hit any easier, but we're cushioned in a way that our tender younger selves weren't.

When we're young we confidently expect to earn that promotion or win that three-book contract. When the Good Big Thing doesn't happen, we're as crushed as if it were a real catastrophe.

The advantage of maturity is we now know the difference between disappointment and tragedy. And, hopefully, we can endure either with grace.

So I keep on keeping on and living each day as it comes. I know this is a plateau and that sooner or later the next Big Thing will turn my world upside down yet another time.

I hope it's Good Big Thing. And I wish the the same for you.

Decisions, decisions

Here it is Tuesday again. I'm pleased to announce I have finished my sequel and it is now being read by my favorite proofreaders/editors.

I'd celebrate by going outside and lopping some trees in the back yard, but it's 95 degrees out there and I'm not insane enough to venture forth. I did make a quick trip to the library, but hey, that's an emergency, right?

So while I wait for feedback, my plan is to re-visit an earlier work, send out a query or two, or maybe clean my work space, which has become a giant, teetering, pile of  papers, notebooks, files, and miscellany.

Or I could look for some promotional sites that aren't the kind that only other authors post on, hoping desperately to be noticed and re-posted or re-Tweeted.

Or (and this is more likely) I'll grab my iPad and click on Acorn, which I joined for a free month last night in order to watch Louise Penney's "Still Life," the first in her Three Pines mystery series.

And watch a movie.

Yeah, that sounds like a plan for a lazy, hot Tuesday afternoon
.

Second day blahs

It is second-day letdown here in Dreamland. You build up to something and then suddenly -pfft! -- it's over.

Sorta like vacation, or Christmas.

Now that the book has launched, I'm not exactly looking around and saying "What's next?" I already know. Promotion. Finishing the sequel. And all the other stuff you have to do if writing is a career and not a hobby. I'm sorta on the brink right now. I actually went to my LinkedIn page and listed myself as "author."

That was a big step. Up until now, I've though of my writing as a pleasant way to waste spend my time.

But now I've decided to get serious about it. Which means spending some time everyday writing as well as promoting.

Lordy, if the book sells maybe I can afford to hire a publicist!

Yeah, right. Well, as the title says, what's the "definition of a dream?" It's having the things you dreamed of coming true. Which they have, for me.  Ten years ago I never thought I'd have an author page on Amazon.

Now I have six books listed.

Yay! but I still need to sort the laundry, make the beds, and empty the dishwasher.

It isn't all glamour,  folks.

Now here's a picture of Spooky, just because.