Doing:  surveying the stuff all over my floor, sipping a toddy and wondering when I can come back home…



Comic: PHDComics

Doing: Trying to write, and failing.  I’m out of my element, and my mind is insistent on returning home before it will let go of the first word.   ARGH!!!  Where’s the bourbon? Yes I know it’s morning, but bourbon goes well with coffee, right?  Right?


I’ll see you sometime, Monday.    Maybe…



For those I come from, there is nothing more devouring than the feeling of want for home, the feeling of need for home. We are all waiting for a form of transport, a ship, a saucer to carry us out of the too-dark night.

In Tune: Hanna Assadi
Image: found at shout.co

Doing: So the bathroom repair is coming along.  The entire floor pulled up, new joists in place, new shower purchased, new flooring and a carpenter with a big hammer who knows his stuff.

But I feel out of whack.  I miss the comfort of my home. Where I am staying is nice, very nice, but it’s not home.   Another week or so I’m being told.

Am I whining?   You bet your boots I am.   I feel like the nuts and bolts are coming loose, I hear them rattling and pinging to the ground.  I’m not writing and it’s driving me crazy…

at night…

theguardian com

At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hour. No one knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at night.

Observation: HP Lovecraft
Image: theguardian.com

writing tip: persistence…


You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you’re working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success – but only if you persist.

Sound Advice: Isaac Asimov
Comic: Charles Schultz

Doing: So it’s like this, evidently my shower was installed wrong, and I will now need a new bathroom.  Seriously.

So I’m moving out for the next two weeks while our contractor completely revamps my lovely old bathroom.   <sighs>

Mood:  Annoyed, Sad.  Packing, and muttering, muttering and packing….

writing about?


So okay― there you are in your room with the shade down and the door shut and the plug pulled out of the base of the telephone. You’ve blown up your TV and committed yourself to a thousand words a day, come hell or high water.

Now comes the big question: What are you going to write about?

The equally big answer: Anything you damn well want.

Advice: Stephen King, Writing: a Memoir of the Craft
Image: found at pixels

Doing: wondering how anyone knew the plug on the phone is pulled, the shades are down, and the door shut?  Starts searching the room for hidden cameras…..

Mood: Mellow.  A glass of wine on the nearby table, the house is really quiet, in my fave soft jeans, and an oversize tshirt, curled up in a comfy chair re-reading MC Beaton.  I really love the hot mess that is Agatha Raisin.

So I’ve been asked…


..what is in the backpack I keep grabbing when I head out. Although it’s ratty, and well loved, it holds my survival gear.

And it goes like this: my journal of course, a couple of pens, matches in an airtight container, a change of clothes, my phone charger, my phone, stashed cash and credit card, travel toiletries, my daddy’s army knife, d-battery, brillo pad, a small phillips and flathead screw driver, small flashlight, a fishing hook and coiled line, small first aid kit, and a small sealed bottle of bourbon (for medicinal purposes of course).   On my keychain is were the pepper spray lives and my car has a sleeping kit of sorts in the back.

In my food tote: a thermos of coffee, sandwiches, normally some olives & cherries in plastic air tight containers, slim jims, peanuts, some cylinders of instant coffee, water, and a small sealed bottle of bourbon (for medicinal purposes of course).

What?  No, I didn’t repeat myself. I always have two small bottles of bourbon with me. You are aware that there is more than one kind of snake running wild out there.  Right?

Image: odysseyonline

Mood: Sad.  I’m gonna have to buy a new backpack the seams are finally giving way.  This one has seen alot of adventures, and miles with me.   The day Sally broke down out on the middle of nowhere, the afternoon we found a field of lavender going on forever, and ever, the night we met my first love, and the weekend we traveled north to bury him.  The summer we ran away to Texas and started all over, and the night we found our self in some really, really bad company.

This is going to be hard…

unlike most writers…


You see, unlike most writers today, I do not use a computer. I write the old-fashioned way: on the walls of caves.

Humorist: Cuthbert Soup
Comic: Baloo

Doing: it’s Saturday folks!  I’m going to drink a mug of coffee, don jeans and a tshirt, and hit the road. Remember experiences enrich writing.  I’m about add some more of that experiencing stuff to my cache.

Mood: Happy.  Sun is shining, my car is full of go juice, and so am I.  Gonna grab my backpack, a thermos some sammies, my keys and I’ll see you sometime Monday.  Go have some fun!

so this is for us…

imagefave com“This is for us who sing, write, dance, act, study, run and love and this is for doing it even if no one will ever know because the beauty is in the act of doing it. Not what it can lead to.

This is for the times I lose myself while writing, singing, playing and no one is around and they will never know but I will forever remember and that shines brighter than any praise or fame or glory I will ever have, and this is for you who write or play or read or sing by yourself with the light off and door closed when the world is asleep and the stars are aligned and maybe no one will ever hear it or read your words or know your thoughts but it doesn’t make it less glorious. It makes it ethereal. Mysterious. Infinite. For it belongs to you and whatever God or spirit you believe in and only you can decide how much it meant and means and will forever mean and other people will experience it too through you.

Through your spirit. Through the way you talk. Through the way you walk and love and laugh and care and I never meant to write this long but what I want to say is: Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourself and let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.

Let your very identity be your book. Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.

So go create. Take photographs in the wood, run alone in the rain and sing your heart out high up on a mountain where no one will ever hear and your very existence will be the most hypnotising scar. Make your life be your art and you will never be forgotten.”

best advice ever: Charlotte Eriksson
photo: Imagefave.com

dreams of longing…


I am unlike a mortal lass
From dreams of longing I have passed
I came upon your lonely cries
Revealed beauty to your eyes
So shun the world that you have known
And spend your nights within my own.

I shall be thy lover…

Muse’s Song: Heather Alexander
Drawing: Rod Luff

Doing: cooking eggs and bacon, want some?

Mood: Wishful.  Glad to be up and about.  Wishing I could don my jeans, and tshirt, instead putting out my usual nine to five garb.   Wishing I could go out on the boat, but knowing a desk is waiting for me.   Yup, wishful….