Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Marking Time

I was planning on blogging here Sunday, but didn't. I would have told what a great service we had Sunday with guest speaker Don Soderquist, former COO of Wal-Mart.

I didn't blog anywhere yesterday. Had writers group and, well, got home afterwards realizing the group is essentially dead. That didn't exactly raise my spirits, and I didn't do much last night.

Haven't done much tonight, except watch the Criminal Minds team catch the bad guys for three straight hours--or was it four?

Waiting on a corrected cover before I can publish my short story. Waiting on a different cover before I really want to push my latest novel. Waiting on a sense of direction before I begin my next writing work. I'd write an article for Decoded Science, but the editor really prefers news articles. I don't do journalism, so I'm not sure I have much of a future there. I should send her an e-mail.

Waiting on a book sale; any book sale. Waiting on Amazon to straighten out my sales tally, which appears to have been stuck since Sept 8 (according to a notice on my Author Central page). Waiting on Goodreads to tell me how to add a book to my list of publications.

Today I wrote an e-mail to my nephews, a story about the days of our growing up in Cranston. The boys (heck, they're men now) asked me to tell them some of the stories. Their dad (my brother, now deceased) never told many stories. My own children have led lives far away from Cranston, and at this time appear to have no interest. So every week or so, as the spirit moves me, I write them an e-mail with a story. And I heard back from one of them already.

Guess I'll head to bed.

2 comments:

susan said...

I love the idea of typing up memories for your nephews! I know how nice it feels to have someone appreciate the stories one tells/writes. I'm glad they are enjoying them :)

David A. Todd said...

Did another one last night, remembering a time my brother said something at the dinner table he shouldn't have. His oldest son replied and said that sounded just like his dad.