I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.

Sunday, July 29, 2018

About a month or so from now, summer will begin to wane. The myriad of garden colors will be replaced by fading green and then the ground will be crunchy brown with the leftovers. Not seeking to wish away time I look forward to fall because it is my season.
Had an awesome vacation with family and away from words. The breather stoked bonds and mental acuity. Memories fill my heart. News is depressing and it has been god-awful hot but windows are open today. Air conditioners resting until tomorrow.
This first free of time-clock summer is a god-send. The writing life is a dream come true. I am blessed and grateful. And best of all I am making real progress and have not given up on the belief that regardless of that which may prejudice an agent or publishers mind (age), it’s all about the story.