Usually I put up chapters on the weekend but today I thought I’d give it a rest. A friend wrote last night and asked how I was feeling. This is my reply. I feel like we escaped a fate my father, uncle, and aunt in the Woman’s Army Corps fought…
Hemingway said that nothing was as rewarding to him as the act of writing itself, when the words took wing, when the hand followed the thought, and the thought soared, the pen tracing its flight. My only thrill in writing comes after I’ve written something, put it away and then…