One day young,
Next day old.
What happened in between?
I wrote this…I think. It’s in my notes dated March 22, 2017. I usually attribute quotes, so I’m pretty sure it’s mine. If not, please correct me. I tend to jot down short poems, single stanzas, isolated sentences, capturing random thoughts, transient memories, elusive emotions. I scribble them in my notepad or dictate them into my iPad. They are everywhere—a writer’s chaotic comfort.
This is the third time I have to apologize for my delinquency. I haven’t even kept up with reading blogs that I love to follow. Blogs, not just of interest, but written by people I want to support because they are good and kind and talented. I apologize for that too.
Alas, I have been busy with the “in between.” I’ve been enjoying a season of gardening and outdoor living, editing the final copy of Mags’s story, relishing in the company of good friends and struggling with personal loss. Life.
I think I’m back now, ready to move ahead on so many projects, including returning to historical fiction and historical romance. I still have some YA stories that need to be told, so I suspect I will be playing in the writers’ playground of see-sawing genres and spinning on the carousel of ideas. It’s an enticing vision and, like a child, no doubt I will exhaust myself and go to bed each night dizzy, weary and smiling.
So third apology. But third time’s the charm, right?