Post time

Ten minutes until post time, talk about procrastination! Actually, spell it N-A-P!

We continue to walk around the mountain area. It is quite interesting. I like it much better than going down hill to the post office. Ordinarily very good with dead reckoning and keeping my directions straight in the city, I could easily get lost in the back roads of this little mountain village.

I'm back in the valley for the night. One hundred miles down hill isn't exactly restful as we rocket down toward the city. It is amazing what can fit into a Mustang, when it has to be done. Doggie took up the back seat and was a splendid passenger. She is very well behaved and quiet, of course, being a service dog. She does a lot of that "doggie eyebrow" stuff as she watches her two roommates settle into a routine of living together. As I prepared my monthly sales tax report the other day, I began to think for certain that Alzheimers is contagious.

Once I dropped my friend off in Scottsdale and found my way to the freeway, it felt good to be in five lanes of busy traffic all going in the same direction. It is beautiful up in the mountains and certainly nothing to complain about - I didn't even bottom out at the bottom of the dirt road this time as we left. The scenery all the way down was gorgeous. Yet I was glad to look across the valley and see the back side of Camelback Mountain with the praying monk at the camel's ear. I knew where I was without looking at a road sign. It felt good.

So now, how do I tie all of this into writing? Just watch... First of all, when I say writing, I mean fiction writing. I know there are other kinds of writing, but this is what I know. Because my genre doesn't require a lot of research, I just write. No long drawn out character sketches or outlining chapters for me. It is pretty much what comes is what the reader gets (plus rewrites and edits).

There was a reviewer once who refused to review Kathryn's Beach based solely on the fact that it was written in first person. While I appreciate the honesty, I also thought it was a bit strange. Reminded me of a kid who wouldn't try a new food. Enough said.

Like hurling down the mountain with no need to touch the accelerator pedal, I just steer as the story gets written. When someone I know orders Kathryn's Beach, I sometimes wonder if they will like it. There are all kinds of 'analysts' theories that can be read into that - and they probably all apply. But besides the state of my mental health, I quit worrying about thinking such things years ago because the question keeps me driven to write the best story I can for the eventual readers.

That's what this is all about. The reader. From cave drawings and petroglyphs, we leave our message with the hopes that the ones who see them will understand our intent. Write well, my friends, even the notes to school...