Why

It seems whenever I start to wonder if writing is really what I want to do,what I should be spending my time on, something happens to remind me WHY I want to write, and why I want to write romance and fantasy in particular.

I often pick up used books at library book stores, and through Paperback Swap online.
When I opened a romance to read the other day, a small card fell out. It was for a local neurosurgeon and on the back was written in a firm hand "Surgery Nov. 17th, a.m. CT scan".
It was a quick snapshot into the reading choice of someone with lots to worry about.

Romance and fantasy (and mystery and science fiction, and...) paperbacks have gotten me through some hard days and weeks in my life.
When I read something that lifted me out of myself, that sometimes gave me hope or just a few hours of peace I would close the book and think "I want to write like that."
Books of all sorts have been my constant companions since I learned to read 41 years ago.
I want to write stories that give the readers a tingle, or a few laughs, or tears, or all three.

I feel as if I have been learning my craft for decades, and will keep learning as long as I breathe.
Like my other favorite things (herbalism, artful creation, loving my husband) there is never an end to exploring, only new vistas layered on the familiar paths.

She's Gone

About five years ago, we were given the gift and responsibility of a dear fur child. Seems she was living with pit bulls and got a bit too big for her britches. Finally, after she stole food from the pit bulls one too many times, she was attacked, and needed a new home. So, with the promise that she would always be an only dog, we were given Kitsune.

She brought a lot of joy to our home. She liked to talk back, you see and her myriad of grunts and groans and sneezes became the second language of the house. Many times people who called could hear her trying to join in the conversation in the background. She took a lot of joy in anything that came her way (with the exception of Moonie cat. She could handle Pit Bulls but was terrified of Moonie) and I treasure every day we had with her.

She started going downhill this past winter, and, today, we let her go. The end of her suffering was the final gift we could give to her. The memories she gifted to us will be with us always.

Here are some pictures of her time with us.