Wednesday, October 4, 2017
It's been a little woof at times
My library is advertising that kids can read to a therapy dog. Although I'm older than fifth-grade, I have interest in doing this. When I began writing Something About Sophia, I often read to Lucky. She enjoyed it. I think most dogs enjoy being spoken to as the people they are. In my ponderances of reading to a therapy dog, my memories of reading to my own dog fell down my cheek and onto my pillow. I'll spend more time with my mom's dog. She bites me. It's an honest relationship. I know she loves me, she just bites me.
Friday, June 23, 2017
More Thoughts Than You'd Think.
It has come to my mind this week that I have more thoughts than I'd care to admit. In other words, I'll try to keep this focused and simplified for those who don't want to read about my personal analysis of Shakespeare's relationship to bullying in the modern school and office. Perhaps I should just stick to writing, but I also have to go to work every day and try to function as an adult in the world, while others seem to be keenly, blissfully unaware of their misfortune toward their fellow society-walkers. "I'll look to like, if looking, liking, move..."
Monday, March 27, 2017
I'm an early riser. Okay, truth be told, I'm a late oil-burner, too. This weekend was my birthday, filled with coffees and shopping errands and dinners and lunches. Opportunities for Mom abounded to regale tales of an easy child to raise. What an angel, oh, what a precious little darling (she was speaking of me). I don't want to miss a thing. My brand sparkling new niece is the same way. She has to be cradled to sleep like a chicken, for she doesn't want to miss anything going on. She's three weeks old, but she looks in the direction of voices, and listens for stories. Oh, I just love her. I wonder if my aunts, my grandmothers, felt like this about me when I was born? For sure, your ancestors looked forward to your coming. They thought about you, and imagined you, and dreamed of the things you would do, and the people you would help, the concertos you would compose. With all of those people cheering us on from Heaven, it hardly seems worth it to sleep in. #dogood #begood #loveandwartimeless #outofmyhead
Monday, March 20, 2017
The Supercoolest People Were Born in March
My great-great grandfather would be closing in on 160 years of age this week. I have a brand new niece, who is pretty much, the coolest person we've all met since forever. Among my loved ones' March birthdays, we must remember the one who told us we had, "Brains in your head, you've got feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose." Dr. Suess was born March 2, 1904. He promptly went to work scattering verse and smirks across the globe. I mean, Horton heard a WHO, and I know it wasn't, "Who's on First?" Please don't tell Abbott and Costello, also born in March, by the way. March babies are cool, because you're either Pisces, and you're chilled-out in a pool somewhere doing synchronized swimming/ Two weeks later, you're an Aries, and you know you're cool. You don't have to prove it to anyone. They'd better catch up to you, you're so cool. You're so on top of it, you're practically into April already. Take it easy and go for a swim. Congratulations, March babies! You are the spring! You are for whom everyone has been waiting!!
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
I saw a meme for a perfume to mimic the scent of old books. Well. Okay. I've spent time in the basement of the library, and while it has its charm, and I've communed with the fabled ghost down there (which Al, the librarian, SWEARS to me has gone on to somewhere else), I perhaps am not a fan of smelling like a musty old cellar full of paper. Don't get me wrong. I adore poring over history and filing book jackets for semesters on end, then being promoted to transcribing immigrant interviews. These were some of the best days of my life. I am hoping that when insisting hipsters spritz on the scent of old books, to smell, well read, they... well, READ.
Monday, February 20, 2017
If you aspire to write The Great American Novel, you must write with all your heart. Having traveled to and lived in other places, I see that my grandparents were unique people. They were not unique to North Dakota, but they were unique. They dug in and developed land and a farming industry they were proud of. They were humble and never backed down from a challenge. When the country called, Grandpa marched off to defend the Red, White and Blue, so he wouldn't have to do it here. #loveandwartimeless #historicalfiction #northdakota #bgmercantile
Friday, February 3, 2017
The time is now.
My characters have always been independent women who love their families and like to travel. I probably should have been a mapmaker. When you have spent two years marketing other projects, and outlining, writing notes, having conversations, drinking gallons of coffee, and loving a new book into a manuscript, eventually the day comes when you click into Cover Creator. The time is now.
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)