It was black dark when I left the house yesterday morning just before seven. The porch light revealed shrubs and trees shrouded in white and giant fluffy flakes swirling all around.
No matter -- I had a Rotary Club meeting to attend. A charming neighbor had invited me to come speak and, not wanting to blow my cover as an intrepid mountain woman (when I'm really a weather wimp), I was going and I would speak.
No matter -- I had a Rotary Club meeting to attend. A charming neighbor had invited me to come speak and, not wanting to blow my cover as an intrepid mountain woman (when I'm really a weather wimp), I was going and I would speak.
It was a nice group, gathered in a local cafe where the smell of coffee and sausage accompanied the conversation and the business part of the meeting. Then it was my turn.
I told the story, as I've done so many times, of our move to the mountains and my journey to publication. And I left time for questions.
The questions are always my favorite part of a presentation. Some are expected -- do you have a special time and place for writing? (Yes, but I'm pretty flexible.) Some are unexpected -- what made you think you could write a book?
I told the story, as I've done so many times, of our move to the mountains and my journey to publication. And I left time for questions.
The questions are always my favorite part of a presentation. Some are expected -- do you have a special time and place for writing? (Yes, but I'm pretty flexible.) Some are unexpected -- what made you think you could write a book?
I've asked that one of myself partway through each book in turn -- that dreadful muddle in the middle where all the characters seem to be going in different directions with neither rhyme nor reason to bring them together in a march toward a coherent and believable ending.
But every time (so far), the muddle at last resolves and my characters and I march, limp, or stagger toward an ending. We're on the final lap now. Keep your fingers crossed.
But every time (so far), the muddle at last resolves and my characters and I march, limp, or stagger toward an ending. We're on the final lap now. Keep your fingers crossed.
8 comments:
I love the curled tree! Nature is just the most amazing artist and so are you! I have no doubt you will 'muddle' to a great read!
The curly tree is a Corkscrew Hazelnut (filbert)-- Corylus avellana
'Contorta' -- aka 'Harry Lauder's Walkingstick.
I love weird plants...
Does it bloom? I want one of those trees! I love weird plants too.We have a Cigar Bush that is just the neatest thing with it's tiny cigar shaped blooms.
No blooms, no nuts. It has attractive yellow-green long dangly catkins in the spring then is covered with big green leaves that aren't particularly interesting.
Just remember that you have a whole gallery of folks out there, lining the streets to cheer you over the finish line!
And thanks for the snow pictures! We had almost 80 degrees in Dallas today. I know that sounds appealing to those living in the hard-hit weather areas, but, darn, I would like to have distinct SEASONS occasionally!
Just one more comment - just noticed the tree was called Harry Lauder's Walkingstick. Wasn't he a Scottish singer/songwriter who wrote funny 'ditties'?
Thanks, Sue! I was just getting ready to stagger off to bed when you words of encouragement showed up. The story is in its final hours . . .
which translates to final days for me.
Yep, the snow is gorgeous. As an ex-Floridian I still find it pretty exciting.
Yes, he was -- and carried a crooked walking stick in his stage act -- so I'm told.
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