BUSYness.

A box of books slides, side to side, in the back of my car as I roam the town, from hither and yon and yon to der. My neighbor was good enough to carry down another box of books for me the other day.

When I began writing this story down, and giving Sophia a tale, I thought I would have one book printed. I thought my Grandma would be so pleased if she could hold in her hands a book based on her own grandmother. This project, this labor of love, has taken on a life of its own. My inner editor was hanging in the garage (it's my way of not writing in too "newsy" a manner), and I ended up with nine storyboards. So now, I must keep going. That brave girl, who came all the way to Dakota Territory from the big city, can rest easy.

Speaking of easy. It is easier to write about someone you already know. Therefore, my grandma's book will be a little more... vivid.

But with the BUSYness of launching a book (and believe me, I'm not complaining), I find myself with little time to write a book. I'm going to have to start scheduling myself. I already don't watch television. I will soon cut out dinner.

Working Artiste.

Today, a businessman from the community has arranged to come to my office early to be the first one to buy a signed copy of Something About Sophia. That makes me a professional author. I have sold out on Amazon, and they are printing more. The people in my life have responded so kindly to my little story, I am blown away.

Tomorrow is my first signing, at Barnes & Noble. Under a winter weather warning, my feelings won't hurt too badly if no one shows up.