Okay, here is the good news that I have wanted to share for months now but only today am able to tell my loyal readers, my book I Albert Peabody is paid for through my diligent efforts. Like I said it’s been several months of suffering through in which case it seemed someone or something always seemed to get in the way.
I’ve been just on pins and needles feeling like Gumby, being pulled in different directions because of this home deal, my book promotions and marketing, my wife and of course my own writing which has suffered the most.
We think we have found our place outside Cheney and Airway Heights which are towns outside Spokane. It’s 4.5 acres with a mobile home, a barn in the back, a shop, and unused pasture that will eventually be mine and Stephanie’s new home…
Last night my writers’ group had a class in point of view. In case my loyal readers are not aware or have forgotten what they learned Junior High and High school English, point of view is the perspective of how the writer want to present his characters, such as first person: me, myself, or I, second person: you, or third person: he, she, them, they.
Long ago in a school district far, far away and before people in a decision-making capacity realized that I had speech impairment and not a mental disability, I was placed in Special Ed. No one had to tell us that we were not part of society, from a young and impressionable age we all knew we didn’t belong.
This goes beyond words to describe how I feel right now following what happened Monday in Highland Park, Illinois. Once again, a deranged individual comes out of the woodwork and using an assault style rifle shoots parade goers on our most sacred holiday.
Jose was six years old riding in the back of a long trailer with over fifty others fleeing, what Padre called a dire situation in Honduras where they lived but were suddenly thrown out. He saw his uncle give this man all of the pesos they possessed to get out of here and into a land of promise.
My loyal readers I have just received my first official review of my book, A Man’s Passion.
“I guess, what kind of game, Xanadu?” “I ask you a question about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Then you do the same, ask me a question and I answer truthfully.” The thought of this both intrigued and frightened me.
An angry storm spit rain and wind whipped the trees about. I looked from the comfort of my warm house and hoped the power would return soon. In an instant I saw the lightning crack and the thunder clap so loud I jumped a foot from the wood floor.