I stopped posting to my blog because I didn't like who I was when I was posting. I felt I had to entertain, to do a song and dance just to be interesting, but in truth I am not good at either singing or dancing. I am good at writing, so I'll try to stick with just that. With luck, entertainment will follow and everybody will go home happy. (Singing and dancing optional.)
I have scratched and clawed and screamed and shouted my way through two manuscripts, and am waiting to hear from trusted others if they fly or not. I am contemplating a new novel. (Though from a safe distance. It's shy and I don't want it to bolt.)
I visited a wildlife refuge a month ago--a very short but very needed trip. It was wonderful; I am still walking around there in my head, staring at the water, the birds, the sky, taking the short walk to the ocean. While on the ocean beach at dusk, the sky glowering with dark, tattered clouds, the sun fighting back, refusing to give up it's exuberant hold on the day, I saw five rainbows. Five. (I also saw wild horses during my visit, but from a safe distance, as they bolt, too.) I am hoping my next book can capture, at least in part, some of the serenity I still feel from being there.
Our culture, being noisy, apparently doesn't want quiet books--or so I hear--but I still want to write them.
Now watch me write a book about a crazy, shrieking, dancing girl in love with mahem.