I figured out where my contact page is. Please put the word contact in the search bar if you want to communicate with me. If I put the word in quotes apparently the computer gets the idea I’m trying to code. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Once you search, my contact page appears and you can figure out the rest.
I got some feedback about my first post from aforementioned children. The support continues, which is well received. But I started a blog while whining about my unfinished book. The two seem incompatible: one a parasite and the other an unwilling host.
Actually, writing is relaxing. I put enormous energy into twisting my story into a fictionalized memoir, a true life novel, and a plain ordinary novel. I will not divulge how long I’ve spent on the project exactly because it has morphed many times. Each time I started the clock over, set new deadlines made more promises. But still no book arrived.
I’m pretty sure it’s because any of those books I would have published wouldn’t have captured what I wanted to say. It wasn’t simply the book that wasn’t ready, it absolutely was me.
Timing is everything. I named one of my characters Al Hamilton decades ago. I was staring at my toaster and inspiration struck. I went to the library and looked up the relatively obscure early American figure. I wanted to see what I could work into the story. Maybe he was bullied in school about being on the $10 bill. I guess Lin Manuel was a tad quicker off the draw than I was.
It’s okay, though. The universe works in mysterious ways. Now it may be my Instant Pot that creates a new bit of genius. I’m willing to give it a try.