I thought once again about how learning history is, yes, about broadly knowing “big events”; but more important is drilling down to contextualize them and seeking better to understand those lives lived before ours.
My mother never knew any of my books even existed because I was certain she would have been unhappy with them; I didn’t see the point of creating trouble and my uncle had agreed with me on that…
I admit I adore some of those “who” I write, and my hope is that over the course of a book that a reader comes to do so as well.
How DO I write? This way: I write cover to cover in a style that I enjoy reading…
Sometimes I write a comment and afterwards I think… that should not be “buried” among other comments.
My cousin in New Jersey, prompted I gather from all of our exchanges about her daughter’s writings, emailed me that she had the other day bought ALL of my novels.
I think about all I’ve published, as well as what I am writing. I’m chatty and often casual on a free blog post like this. To me, my blog here is talking over a coffee, or something harder…
As I sat at the man’s desk, my father-in-law next to me, as she stood a couple of feet away she asked next: “Really? What are you doing here?”
I do get it. I don’t live in a “la-la land”; and I believe most other people out here actually don’t.
Back to the actual point to the day: Kids having access to books. A love of reading is one of the best habits one can instill in a child. I saw my parents regularly reading for relaxation.
I entitled this post “Flowers On The Edge” at the last minute because I had felt she was much like a lovely flower and always living on the cutting edge of life – determined to live well no matter what.
Seriously, I’m not inherently anti-social or excessively aloof, or inclined to hermit-hood. I’ve been told (more than once) in person that I’m actually a pleasant person. I’m also “socially” NOT my uncle.
The more I write, the more I feel what I write is often a product of what has happened to me that I could not entirely control – memorable people, unexpected events, new ideas, and intriguing experiences and exchanges. All of us also occasionally feel ignorant, out of our depth, and even stupid…
We are truly UNIQUE as an author, really, only with our first published work. After that, while naturally we hope to grow and to improve, we will unavoidably always include aspects of the same again and again.
“Today is your birthday. Actually, it was February 29… and that was you. Of course you were born on a leap year. You couldn’t have had just an ordinary day every year like the rest of us.”