(And whatever you do … do not place it in the microwave to see if it will explode!)
It’s a windy fall day . . .
The kind of day where the last of the dry, dead leaves are ripped from the trees and are tossed high in the air, and tumbled over and over before they come to rest on the brown, crisp, dying lawns of the suburbs.
Raking occupied the last three weekends. Too soon.
But—the current windy day (one of the last of its kind this autumn) has decided to conduct one more performance by rustling the uppermost leafy branches of its arboreal orchestra.
The sky provides a bright blue curtain behind the pine, maple, oak, and dogwood musicians.
I watch and listen again to the wind as it takes its last gasp of warmth before winter.
For some reason, I always hear a balalaika playing “Lara’s Theme” from Doctor Zhivago.
That is the magic of the wind.
In honor of “Indie Pride Day!” — July 1st! (for independent authors)
Uncle Sam (a great believer in “Independence”) wanted to get in on the celebration!
AS A “BACK YARD BIRDER” TWITTER HAS A VERY DIFFERENT MEANING FOR ME!
FATHER’S DAY WAS YESTERDAY AND SUMMER ARRIVES TODAY!
TO MARK BOTH OF THESE IMPORTANT DATES ON THE CALENDAR—I DECIDED TO SHARE SOME SPECIAL “TWEETS!” Pour yourself a cool refreshing lemonade, iced tea, or something a little stronger, perhaps? And please do enjoy!
I have a question for you.
Why do writers (in this day and age) use pictures of old typewriters, pencils, pens, close-ups of typewriter keys, copybooks, lined tablets, et al as their website’s header image?
We all know that none of their blogs are produced using those arcane tools.
I mean, sure, some may begin by writing out their thoughts on paper with a wooden stick or ink-filled implement. But, c’mon—none of us would be able to access and read any of their brilliant posts, if that is where their efforts ended.
For instance—that is not me at the top of this page, and I did not use a typewriter from 1918 to accomplish this post. So, why do you suppose people think the only way to let their readers know that they are writers, is by reaching back into history for their photos?
I think I know the answer.
There is no romance, or mystery, or nostalgia in viewing a computer screen. Perhaps in one hundred years, there may be. But not now. Not yet.
To prove my point, dear readers, I leave you with this antique version of the “backspace key”—reminisce with me for a moment:
See what I mean?
http://www.phuket101.net/2015/02/baby-elephant-playing-on-beach.html
Did you know elephants are pregnant for almost two years? Actually, the average is twenty-two months! And then they deliver a baby weighing as much of two hundred and thirty pounds! Can you imagine?
Yes. I can. I’ve been pregnant with my book, “BOSSES AND BLACKJACKS: A Tale of the Bloody Fifth in Philadelphia” for three years! At least, that’s what it felt like. In reality, with time out for holiday seasons, it was actually more like two-and-one-half years—so I’ve still got Momma Pachyderm beat!
Morning sickness was the endless research. The girth increase was felt with each additional chapter written. Toward the end, attempting to bend over to pick something up from the floor or cutting my toenails, was represented by the painful process of editing.
Now—at last—I’m in labor!
By that, I mean I have sent the entire finished manuscript to be formatted and finalized for submission to the magical world of Amazon!
Here’s hoping the delivery will go smoothly! (I can guarantee my book baby will not weigh 230 pounds!)
Stay tuned for the “birth announcement!”
Autumn is the time of year when trees shake off their leaves, and reveal the homes they’ve been sheltering all spring and summer.
The eggs have all hatched. The babies have fledged. The parents have completed the care and feeding of the young.
The birds are all planning where they will spend the winter.
The aviary that is my backyard takes on a different look, with new visitors who will stay with me through frigid days and snowy nights for the next several months.
Another season of life to share.
THANK YOU TREES.
The editor spent about three weeks doing the first run-through of my book, Bosses and Blackjacks. She has an incredible ability to pick up on a missed comma or end quote or verb tense consistency, among a myriad of other things.
Three weeks.
So, of course, I thought to myself: If it took her three weeks to plod through my manuscript—writing she had never seen before—certainly, I will only need two to review her edits.
Ha! As Eliza Doolittle sang in My Fair Lady:
“What a fool I was, what an addlepated fool!”
Week two is ending as I type this. Am I finished? No way. I have already sent the requisite email message begging her indulgence for an additional week.
Wish me luck. Please.
Now, if you’ll excuse me—I’ve got some revising to do.
Do you set time limits for yourself when you begin a task—be it writing, a household chore, or a life-altering activity? And, what do you do when you smack face-first into that deadline wall?
Please share your experiences, or advice, or both, in the Comment section below.
Do you read? Do you like words placed in order that eventually add up to stories? Do you enjoy punctuation? If so, you’ve come to the right place!
This blog is only $19.95.** It slices. It dices. It extends the life of produce. And for the low introductory price of $9.99 I’ll send you an additional blog for free. (Shipping and handling, not included.)
Supplies are limited. Act now.
Individual results of blog usage may vary.
Side effects may include: entertaining discussions about writing; information about my first book, Bosses and Blackjacks; educational and humorous articles from other authors and bloggers; spectacular photos; and general musings.
** Totally not true.
Stern Words 