Doubtless, a hundred years have passed since this ship sailed the seas off the coast of India. Its voyages, probably few ever recorded, ethereal now. Like that old saying that one cannot step into the same river twice, its wakes have long dissipated into the myriad past waves. This ship merely a ghost which left its image on this ancient traveler’s film several generations ago. Who knows if it disappeared in a tropical storm, rotted away in a dock somewhere when it decayed to the point that it could no longer perform its function, or was dry docked and its timbers and canvas distributed to other uses. Its captain and crew existing only as faint memories in the minds of kith and kin. To us, mere imaginings we might weave gazing upon this old photograph. None on the ship probably even knew they were captured in that moment, on that day, at that particular place in the ever changing sea.
We all take our voyage on the blue marble. Some have trips where they make more of an impression on Time’s passage than this ship and crew. Others, may leave even less of a trace.
My toughest critic (Barbara) is doing a final read on Fort Davis. A different style than my previously released novel A Second Dawn. Just a rip roaring western with lots of action: blood and guts. So far, she likes the way it gets underway in the first scene. Indian attack with the Buffalo Soldiers responding.
I want to perform some PR and sales promotion for the literary novel A Second Dawn. And then, there’s the anticipated work on the next novel, mentioned above, and a book of short stories on the oil patch and the southwest.
This blog continues to amass hits, which I find encouraging. Knocking more and more catch up chores out of the way, so pretty soon, there will remain only this fairly unimpeded highway ahead leading to the next “new” project.
Shhhhh….. I might have an idea…
Anyone who’s ever written knows most have to “sharpen those pencils”. I told myself I needed to get after the writing…so…. in conjunction with that I’ve delved deeply into the above metaphor: organized rooms in the house, fixed things that needed fixin, filled in the appropriate boxes on paperwork that needed sent of for various projects, hauled tree limbs to the dump, put a new battery and two new tires on the Blazer, printed a copy of Fort Davis for Barbara to critique, and a multitude of other chores and ends to projects…
Because, as every writer knows, once those areas of procrastination have served their purpose, it will be time to sit, court the Muse, and make that blinking cursor work across that blank page.
Do you have a Ritual you perform before you get down to: writing (in my case), exercising, working, gardening, running, etc.