Joyce’s father, now deceased, had also attempted a novel, a Western, back in the day. She thought that Uncle Ralph might enjoy reading it, so she dug into the boxes she’d been hauling across multi states for decades, took it to FedEx/Kinko’s, and had them bind it into a real book for him.
I need to find a way to accept the reality that when I put my words and sentences on the screen, they will not be perfect, gleaming pearls of my imagination.
While the writing goals I had at the beginning of 2015 kinda went by the wayside, as did my blog here, I had so much to celebrate. Here’s something I shared on FaceBook. 2015 was the BEST year of my life. Why? I was taking care of myself: — Did yoga and got in cardio…