Welcome to my blog Upstate Girl, (a.k.a Follow Your Bliss Part II), I am an independently published author. This blog is all about writing and the stuff that inspires me to write, the joys and obstacles that come along with the writer's life, and my fascination with the psychology of people and what makes them tick...the human condition, as is...and my love for words, playing with them and making sense of them...and I throw in a few photos from my acre of the world just to make things pretty...sometimes there are things I have no words for, only pictures will do.

*Copyright notice* All photos, writing, and artwork are mine (
© Laura J. Wellner), unless otherwise noted, please be a peach, if you'd like to use my work for a project or you just love it and must have it, message me and we'll work out the details...it's simple...JUST ASK, please.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

The things I found today...

My treasures from today
Railroad tracks...

The dots on the bridge wall

I can't read chicken scratch either...

I love rust...

Kitty Crossing...

Kitty with muddy paws got to the other side...
 
My Fred and I treated ourselves with two whole days of staying at home...it seems we've been on the run going here and there and being tugged about for this and that...well, it felt good to relax and if we felt like doing something, we did it...so we took a ride out to Lakeland, parked, and went for a walk along the old railroad tracks to take pictures...now the two of us are collectors of various odds n' ends, we both love rusty old bits of metal...and I also like the shiny stuff, glass, pottery, and rocks...and lots of pictures...

On the way home I bought a new canvas, so painting isn't too far from my mind...and I've been back to work on Drinking from the Fishbowl this weekend, that chapter 42 has been troublesome, but I think I have a handle on it now, I've printed a hard copy and might do the old-fashioned cut n' paste editing with scissors and tape tomorrow, I do that because I'm a visual person, sometimes just reading it over and over, backwards and forwards doesn't work anymore...so I hack it up and tape it together once the pieces fit right and then I go back to the laptop and fix it...lots of fun for me, watching grass grow for anyone else, I suppose...

Although time marches on as it always does...I'm not quite feeling back to "normal" just yet, I really miss my mother...whenever I get the urge to talk to her, especially during that time of day when I would call her up (such as when I found that old Pertussin bottle today) I just talk to her...whatever works, right? The afterlife has always been a fascination for me, and I wonder if she's here and there, leaving signs, watching, waiting...or possibly, moved on...

My father seems to be coming along, healing, still grieving, but getting closer to going home with every passing day...heading toward his new version of normal.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

When it rains, it pours...no shit.

Discarded No. 1, 8/9/2011

Discarded No. 2, 8/9/2011

Discarded No. 3, 8/9/2011

Discarded No. 4, 8/9/2011

First of all, thank you for your kind comments and emails to me, I really appreciate your wishes and sympathies...it does help in that quiet way, I did receive some sense of buoyancy.from your thoughts.  The month of August has been a very strange period in my life...the loss of my mother was the major, life changing event, and then three weeks later my poor father had an accident at home, breaking his right hip...not a good thing for an 84 year old man to deal with at this point in his life while still suffering from the heart ache of losing the love of his life...but perhaps the nasty irony is, he's now forced to think of himself in a different way. During the days following the funeral, he had been managing all right, being forward thinking, and learning that being alone at home with his new reality...my father is a very contemplative and curious fellow, and yet, has managed to maintain a sweet innocence about life that is very matter of fact. The good news is he made it through the surgery to fix the hip, the surgeon was please with how everything went together, but now the long unknown road to recovery commences. His long term chances are 50-50. His survival will rely on his spirit and the determination to return home...he's made it known that he hates lying around, and he wants to go home...baring complications, I believe he will go home. Now the hard part for me was leaving him to take care of me. Between the crappy FMS flareups and troublesome sciatic nerve pain because of that dang bulge in the L4/L5 disc in my back I'm quite the little pain-ball at the moment...most of it being my own fault for not being good to myself during this difficult time. Thankfully, being my father's daughter, it is my stubborn spirit and determination that will keep me going forward in spite of adversity...


Discarded No. 5, 8/9/2011
The photos are from my parent's yard in Lyons, NY...of all things, their compost heap. These are perhaps the last things that my mother clipped and tossed in there before she passed away... and as of yesterday, the lawn mower man came and has since added grass clippings on top of the discarded flowers from the funeral, of which I did not get to photograph before I left yesterday...

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Loss...feeling lost...

My Mother's bed 8/2/2011
 My Mother passed away on August 3rd due to the inter-cranial bleeding from a stroke that put her into a coma on August 2nd, Janie was 80 years old. She got up that morning, made her bed, went about her daily routine until she complained to my father that she didn't feel well, and suddenly she fainted, and never woke up. Although it was very unexpected, I believe she knew her time was coming. She hadn't been ill at the time, she had been doing well since she had a TIA last January, a warning shot over her bow you could say, she had briefly lost her eyesight but gained it back quickly and resumed her life as a folk artist, painting was one of her joys in life. Her doctor was monitoring her and I believe she was due for an appointment in September...although some of us had noticed some forgetfulness and repeating herself during conversations, she seemed to be chugging along fine on her own steam, she was such a lively little lady no one suspected a thing...we knew if she didn't feel good she'd say so because she was a squeaky wheel when things weren't right in her world. My poor father has been left behind, and the rest of her family and friends in shock, who would've thought that she would up and die so suddenly, but yet, this would be the way she'd prefer it...to leave the world while still in motion, she would have made a terrible patient...


A is for Angels...this was in the Comfort Room where she spent her final hours...it was very appropriate as she loved angels.

We buried her on August 9th, and the sky opened up and poured rain almost all day long, it was pretty awful out, and I'm sure Janie would have been ticked off by the "shitty weather" on the day of her funeral.
The flowers from the funeral 8/9/2011
 We brought home the flowers and set them on the front stoop as we unloaded them from the cars, they looked so pretty there we left them as a tribute...
The garden
 This is the house that I grew up in, my father built it...of course with the help of several local craftsmen and laborers...it is a sweet little house, tho' at times I wonder how five of us lived in there without killing each other...I was outside most of the time, a roamer from dawn to dusk...I came home for meals and when the street lights came on...my mother had an iron school bell to call me home with when I was needed...I could hear it from a mile away...if not more. I've been told on more than one occasion this past week how much I resemble our Janie...I am, after all, Laura Jane...what a rebel name...yes, I am my mother's daughter, and there were times we didn't see eye-to-eye, there were times it seemed we couldn't exist in the same space because we were too alike and sometimes that isn't a good thing, but as we've aged we've gotten on better, and I loved calling her up and letting her talk because she was such a treat to listen to, a chip off the old block of her father, Gordon...I'm just the latest version of them both and Great Grandma too, but with a good blend of my father to balance things out just enough so the chip isn't so jagged that I'd miss the block too much...
Impatiens in an enamel coated metal colander, she planted these special this year and was very pleased about how well the flowers were doing in this arrangement...

I saw this the morning after she passed...a sweet little still life in the garden
 
The porch, with all of her things...
Although she's gone, she is everywhere we look in her house. Goodness knows, I will miss her every day for the rest of my life...I've had to "talk" to her a few times to ask her "What did you do with your wedding picture, Mom?" I found it tucked away in a photo album, the frame must've gotten broken...it took only patience to find it, and I found a second copy of it in a paper bag in the hall closet, full of photos from her mother's house after her father died...I am the finder of lost objects, except when it's my own things...(I do find them eventually in the last place I look, just like everybody else.) The photos that I found are treasures that will be comfort to us all...


My mother was a folk artist, she painted many beautiful things, usually on old wooden boxes, boards, bowls, benches, stools, chairs, and other odds n' ends that she'd find...and she won prizes at the New York State Fair. My sister and I will make certain that her entries are delivered this week as scheduled, she would've wanted us to do that...


Her final piece.
This is the last piece she worked on, it is the lid of a picnic basket, featuring historical buildings in our home town Lyons NY where she lived all of her life. All that was left to do is to finish the Wayne County Courthouse, and I've been asked to finish it for her...I couldn't work on it yet, but I will make a special trip home to take care of it...I need a little time to fill the hole left in my life, get back to something resembling "Normal"...and help my siblings settle our father into his new routine without his Janie, this isn't going to be easy, we're playing it by ear, hoping he can stay at home for as long as he wants to and for as long as he's able.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Elemental...

 
Slate, 7/20/2011

Wall and Sky, 7/21/2011

Discarded weeds, 7/23/2011

Discarded weeds, 7/23/2011

A Flutter-bye, 7/23/2011

Leaf in shadow, 7/23/2011

Summer Lilies, 7/23/2011

"J", rusted metal found by my Fred along the railroad tracks, 7/24/2011

A collection of railroad spikes (also found by my Fred), 7/24/2011 (The shadows are SOOOO COOL!)
 It's been wicked hot here, as it's been everywhere else it seems, I heard we hit a record of sorts, 100 on Thursday, which is highly unusual for Upstate New York...the sky has been a brilliant blue for many days, we got some rain today, but it's been too long coming...
Opening Night at Szozda Gallery, 7/22/2011

My Fred and I had an opening of our exhibition on Friday...more pics n' details at my art blog Follow Your Bliss...

I spent much of the weekend photographing things, looking at everything, reading and making a few changes to a chapter or two in Fishbowl,  and napping (nothing finer than falling asleep in a comfy chair on a breezy porch on a hot day)...I've had a busy week full of many accomplishments at work and personally, and through much of it I struggled with the FMS trash-compactor feeling...yeah, that's the best way to describe the wretched overall 'I feel like shit' feeling that I get from time to time, it's a warning that I need to slow down. So in spite of all of this wonderful stuff happening, I can still feel like shit and get through it with a smile. I think I can do this as long as what I'm doing is making me happy, that's all I can say...my art, my writing, my photos, my garden, my Fred, our son, my five cats and one dog named Max keep me going no matter how shitty I feel.

detail of one of my paintings, Evening, Blue and Gold, 2010-2011, acrylic on watercolor canvas, 24 x 18 inches

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Sunday morning...

Fragment, (Old Chimney Brick) 6/28/2011 (previously posted at From my acre of the world...Tumblr site, 7/3/2011)

Fragment, 6/28/2011

Fragment, 6/28/2011
I love the variety of colors and textures of old bricks, their surfaces eroded by time, they’re so beautiful to me. The old chimneys of our farmhouse were taken apart when we had the new roof put on the house, there were four of them originally, three were no longer in use or attached to anything and falling apart, when the last one started to lean a few years ago, we had to take it down to replace it with a nice new brick chimney…I’ve saved the old bricks, line gardens with them, their fragments fill bottoms of planters for drainage, I re-use what I can…occasionally, I’ll find a chunk or two under a bush or tucked in the weeds, it’s a mystery to me how these things travel, but they do get around the acre…

I've been working my way through the final chapters of Drinking from the Fishbowl, plagued by self-doubts while not working on it and then perfectly happy with it while I am...typical, nothing new.  I've become snagged on the last chapter, have practically re-written it in the places that needed work and suddenly what was once a fragment of a thought took on a life of its own, and I'm on the fence about cutting out original material, which is still valid, but does it belong to this chapter any more? If I cut it out, will I miss it? It's funny how I've cut this book to ribbons over the years, and cringed at cutting things that I fear that I will miss, only to find that no, I don't (maybe the more recent cuts made last Fall I still look for.) Originally, it was my plan to have this book ready by Fall 2011 to publish, but it's not looking likely, after this latest go around, I've made up my mind to set it aside for a month or two, work on something else...(so she sez)...or I could start over and get back into the thick of it while it's still fresh in my mind and I think I know what I want to do (cutting more from it!) But...but...but... ugh, I can make myself go crazy fussing over it. I've been taking it slow with this one, it's size has always been a troubling factor...it's currently hovering at about 525 pages (standard ms double spaced, 12 point), where before it was closer to 800 than it was necessary, so I've taken it in hand and compacted it to a more manageable size, but still, it is a handful.

Layers, 7/3/2011 (posted on From my acre of the world...)

A hungry caterpillar, 7/3/2011
The acre has been busy with life, things growing and little barn swallow peas fresh from their pods lined up on the power line leading to the garage, learning to fly, growing their swallowtails...lots of flutter-bys, and the baby crows, although fledged and as big as their parents are still fussing and demanding, whiny little things! (Pitiful baby cries.) The Pileated woodpecker loves our half-dead tree on the corner of the back driveway entrance, I watched him this morning hammering away, throwing wood chips around (for once he didn't take off when I came along with Max!) Poor Max was having wood chips fall onto his back while he sniffed the bushes under the tree. Unfortunately, I never have my camera with me when the big bird is around, one of these days I'll get a photo...well, shoot, I thought I had more photos of the garden, but I guess I haven't downloaded them yet...another post for another time...

A few hours later...I just finished re-reading the last chapter of Drinking from the Fishbowl and after a few adjustments, a cut and paste from here to there, I think it's done . I'll read it again in a few days to let the dust settle...but I believe it's how it should be- oh happy day!.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Expectations, the readers reviews of Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story

It’s been two years since I published Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story, being an independently published author is a lot like being a stray cat out looking for a home or going about their independentness scrounging for what they can get, usually very little... some people don't want you around and throw shit at you to scare you off, some come at you, cautiously cuz you might be overzealous with rabies, while some welcome you with open arms, give lap time, food, and warmth. I’ve been quite pleased with the result of my experiment as an independently published author—my little ghost story is finding homes, being read—most of them like it (even better, some say they love it!) Some tell me that it made them laugh and cry, some start reading it again because they loved it so much. Some say they will tell everyone they know about it. Some have felt a little middle of the road about it, it was good, but there was something that didn’t sit well, and a few downright hated it. Throughout this process I’ve experienced the highs and lows emotionally, have taken care to develop a thick skin, and a c’est la vie attitude, I can’t please them all, and above all, it’s business -  a subjective business.With that said, here are the reviews, thirteen of them…

Reader #1***** (5 stars) What a story!
This is a darn good book, gifted to us by an accomplished storyteller. We're treated to an extremely satisfying array of characters, from the quiet, marred Asher, to raucous, sequined Dede; and guided by the quirky, gravel-voiced, 6 feet, 3 inch creator of Dusty Boots Records.

I read fiction to be absorbed, to move into a house with people I don't know yet, to sit in the chairs in the parlor, or disappear into the library behind the secret panel and see the dust on the book jackets and smell the air from the open window. I want to hear the creek bubbling past the broken down willow, and taste the heat from the Taos desert. I want to smile, laugh, fear, suffer, love with the people on the page.

Dusty Waters delivers.

This is a memorable book. The plot devices are adroit, and there are admirably adept methods Ms. Ryan uses; how does a writer convey to the reader that it's hard to get a single message separated from a litany of ghostly memories? The way Laura does it.

There are words and phrases that delight - "suchthings," and "nonstop raspberry."

I'll read Dusty Waters again. Happily.

Reader #2 ***** (5 stars) Not at all what I expected...Wow!
Dusty Waters is a 5 star read. We meet Dusty in her 40s (I think?) and she is somewhat of a hippie in that she stands up against the government through her songs and her unashamed preaching. She is smart and has lived a life. Her childhood friend, Katharine, is writing a book about Dusty (now that Dusty is a famous folk singer) and "Dusty Waters: a ghost story" is a mixture of the interviews that Dusty and Katharine share, and the back stories that Dusty tells in first person narrative. Always intense, realistic conversations, fully-body characters and I loved every one of them.

Dusty sees dead people. No, not in a "Sixth Sense" sorta way, but just in that she can see the ghosts of people who have yet to move on with their "lives". Many of the dead will live the same last moments over and over again, dying over and over. Or some will wait in a certain place where they felt most comfortable in their living "life"... for someone, or something. Dusty sees these spirits- ever since she was a child (of about 4 years) and her father suddenly died of an aneurism at the breakfast table. After he died, she could still see her father sitting at the breakfast table for 3 years, until they moved back to a family heirloom of a house that got passed down from generation to generation.

At the "new" house where Dusty's mother grew up, Dusty can see all of her ancestors trapped inside the house. But, it's not in a scary way. Some of them died brutal, mis-informed deaths, but none wished ill-will to Dusty. The ghosts were so trapped inside their own misery or solitude, that most didn't even notice that Dusty could see them.

Dusty Waters is about self-discovery, trusting one's instincts, true love, growing up in war, losing family members, growing up, and being true to oneself.

The only issue I had with the book was it seems to be marketed as a Ghost Story- as in a horror book. Even the cover art looks a little creepy. "Dusty Waters" has ghosts in it, sure, but it's not ABOUT the ghosts. It's so much more than that. If I could change anything about this book, it would be the cover and the marketing strategy. Because "Dusty Waters" is not scary... it's beautiful.

Reader #3 **** (4 stars)
This is a story about the life and loves of Dusty Waters. She is a folksinger with an attitude, but if you had lived through what she has I guess you would be the same! Dusty can see and communicate with ghosts. This gift is found out when her dad tragically died one morning and never really left. After this the family moved into Tanglewood (a mysterious mansion-like place) and with even more ghosts to keep Dusty busy. This biography of Dusty and her life living at Tanglewood is an interesting one. Reading this book you feel like the nosey neighbor peeking into her life...not a lot of books can make you feel like you there and observing.

Reader #4 **** (4 stars)
I loved this book! I was going into it expecting something really supernatural, focused on spirits/ghosts. Instead I read a beautiful story about living life. Dusty's ability to see ghosts is just a part of her, like being tall, or having curly hair.

Dusty's voice carried me along on a gentle pace through the story of her life. I laughed, I cried, and I put the book down feeling better for having read it. I can't wait to pick it back up and read it again!

Reader #5 **** (4 Stars)
I totally enjoyed this one and for so many different reasons. Laura's writing style is just really awesome and has a unique flow to it. She really managed to make the story feel intimate.

'Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story' was certainly a unique book. I initially got interested in this one because it was a "ghost" story, but it turned out to be so much more than that. Yes, there are ghosts in the book, but I think this one really dug deeper. It really hits on the "ghosts" of our past and how they shape the person we are today. I loved the sometimes nutty main character, Dusty, and the stories she told. They were each unique and again, I think it showed how the ghosts of our past affect the person today.

I have to mention the format of the book because I really thought it was great. Each chapter starts out with a transcript of an interview done with Dusty while working on a biography...it then switches in to what I would call a flashback.

Overall, I thought this one was enjoyable. No matter what kind of ghost story you're looking for you may just find it here. I'd call it a relaxed and easy-going book.

Reader #6    **(2 Stars) Note: added to reviewer’s personal “losers” list
Dusty Waters, A Ghost Story, is not a ghost story. It's a people story with ghosts on the sidelines. Dusty is a folksinger, who just happens to be able to see and communicate with ghosts. The book is about Dusty having her memoirs written by an old friend. That was interesting enough to make me immediately want to read this book. Sadly, for me, the result was rather boring. Imagine if Forrest Gump was female, and could see ghosts. Not that Dusty was challenged in any way other than her second sight, but she was, like Forrest, overly calm and accepting of the ghosts around her. Kind of like "Ohhhh-Kaaay". A very ordinary story about an ordinary family. The settings and historical events that provided the backdrop for this growing girl and her family could have provided enough interest to save the book, but it simply failed. The historical family mansion, for example, complete with ghosts and hidden rooms should have provided lots of entertainment in itself, but because the ghosts were as ordinary as the living, and Dusty's reaction and interaction with them bordered on deadpan (no pun intended), there was no "hook". The characters were likeable enough, but once the book was closed, I did not feel drawn back to it. Pretty mediocre.

Reader #7 **** (4 Stars)
This was about the life story of a fictional character named Dusty Waters, a folksinger. When her father died one morning at breakfast she saw and conversed with him at the breakfast table for the next three years. No one in her family believed she could see his ghost and called her crazy. When they moved into her Mother's ancestral home, she saw and heard family spirits. I liked the way the author wrote the story. Sprinkled throughout the book, it was written as though Dusty was being interviewed by the writer, Katherine, a friend. There was funny parts and sad parts like all stories, and she did a good job with the ending. An unexpected ending.

Reader #8 * (1 star)
Oh my goodness. This was a terrible book. I thought it was going to be a ghost story (based on the title - duh!), but it turns out it was just an opportunity to rant about politics and "those crazy religious nuts". I didn't realize what I was getting myself into. If you are solidly on the left, you might enjoy this book. Otherwise, steer clear from this one. It was so irritating because there were times that the story encouraged me to continue reading, and then I would get hit in the face with the political rant all over again. Blech...

Reader #9 **** (4 Stars)
I went into this book expecting spooks and transparent figures that go bump in the night. Instead it's a nice book about a normal life and all the little things that go into a life. There were parts that had me not liking Dusty, but as a whole she was likable. There were a few times when spirits were involved that I cried. I like the evolution of Dusty as a person. It is a good book.

Reader #10 *** (3 Stars)
This was an interesting book...the language is not my preference and there is a lot of it...but it has a good storyline.

Reader #11 **** (4 Stars) Note: added to reviewer’s “to keep in personal library” list
Probably because I believe that our loved ones are always around us, I really liked this one. It will be one I keep in my library forever.

Reader #12 ***** (5 stars) Definitely not your average ghost story
Dusty Waters is a different take on the traditional ghost story, dealing more with the lives of people through the eyes of the person who can see them while, simultaneously, trying to grow into her own life. Definitely a good read for those wanting entertainment and some brain food to munch on.

Reader #13 ***** (5 Stars) Excellent story, I loved every page!
The sub-title "A Ghost Story" caught my attention so I bought this book. I enjoyed it so much and am recommending it to all my friends. I don't want to give away the story, but it is definitely a "ghost" story which you find out very early in the book, with numerous plots of mysterious questions...actually I just talked myself into reading it again! ENJOY!!

And so that’s them...the words of wisdom/gut reactions from thirteen readers who have loved, liked, found so-so, or disliked my little ghost story. As you can see, much of what is written here says more about the reader and how they experience books, and going a step further, there are some readers who are open minded and willing to enjoy a book without expectation, while others lose the joy of reading by having strict expectations and have no wiggle room to engage in a writer’s story if it fails to fall within their set parameters. These parameters I find very interesting, especially regarding how every reader has their expectations about what a ghost story is supposed to be...or not be. Is it a ghost story? The majority accept it as a ghost story. It is a ghost story, a ghost story told the way I wanted to write it. The ghosts aren’t the “BOO!” bump in the night kind of ghosts—that’s been done, I wanted to do something different, something better. It is a book about the life of Dusty Waters, the ghost story is the part of her life that will not be included in her biography, only the reader is becoming privy to this secret—this I believe is part of the beauty of the book, it is more than a ghost story.

Two years later, yes, the stray cat has gained a thicker skin, but that doesn't mean I still don't feel a little queasy and bummed out when I see a one star reaction with a review to match relaying all that I did wrong (I know it won't be the last one) or do a little happy dance when I get four stars set up along with a thoughtful review...I'm not yet a fat tabby, but it's been a worth while experiment. I feel good about what I've done, real good (shh, listen to the purr.)
I couldn't resist posting a pic of the little old man (who was once a stray long long time ago) he is very content sleeping on his head like that


Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story is available in paperback through Amazon.com and as an E-book at Barnes and Noble for the Nook.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

From the Garden...

Peony Abstraction
 I've been busy editing Fishbowl and painting up a storm in preparation for an art show at Szozda Gallery, I'm reading a lot too...between the ever growing stack of 'to be read' books that I've found recently and visits to Red Lemonade for quick dips in some extraordinary new work. I'm feeling full to the brim with words...and of course, my garden takes up my spare time, the blooms are coming and going faster than I can enjoy them! I think I go through this bit of despair every year...the peony's are almost all done, and they were giant blooms, but of course, no sooner do they open, the rain comes and beats the snot out of the poor things...and once you pick one, they drop their petals by the next day...all done for another year, already.


Peony portrait
Fragment, Moth Wing

Rose

Collage of debris
Peony   

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Vacation...

Arrangement on stone 5/22/2011

Scars, found field stone, 5/31/2011

Hosta, 5/31/2011

Lace and Spikes, leaf and burrs, 5/31/2011

Old Paint, 5/31/2011

The Red Stripe, field stone, 5/31/2011
I've been on a long vacation, one of the benefits for working at one place for over 25 years is having an accumulation of days off to use or lose by the end of the fiscal year...I always have too many left over (not that I'm complaining)...this has been the perfect time to be off, the weather has been summer-like...well, until today, it's zipped back to spring so we're dipped into the 50's and breezy, actually feels like fall...weird.

My camera has been busy with finding things, I've uploaded hundreds of photos and have yet to go through all of them so I thought I'd post what I have found so far...

The Old Grind Stone, 6/1/2011

Abstraction, Field Stone, 6/1/2011

I've been spending lots of quiet time these days, much of it writing, my editing of Drinking From the Fishbowl is coming along, I'm passing through Part III, doing more tweaking to places here and there that felt a little bit at loose ends...I'm on that self-doubt see-saw again, you see. I do know it's a good story, but there's that uncertainty that goes along with that...it's a tug o' war. It is chock full of dreams and realities, all of it tightly linked within itself, and also bound with the other two novels that I've published so far and the one's that are not yet finished...it's  been a long journey writing these books of mine, and I've loved every minute of it...it has felt good these last few days, sitting on my porch, enjoying the breeze on a hot day, working on words, being immersed in that other place where I go to write, I've been having a hard time getting there this past year since I finished The Fractured Hues of White Light, I have felt quite wrung out and needed to take it easy, but every visit to Fishbowl bolsters my confidence, it's coming into its own, I'm nearly finished...I expect that I will continue working on it throughout the summer months, making sure it's right. (It's what I do.)