All summer I dally. Swim, smell the flowers, watch the butterflies dart from blossom to blossom, catch the stars and moon at their most beautiful. No city lights around here to dim them, they shine so bright I can see my way around the yard. But the snakes crawl at night, so be careful there, too. In my head, words I should put on paper come to life. On hot summer afternoons the crystal clear water of the pool beckons, as do the shouts of the family splashing. I join them.
Because it’s what I do, I write, sometimes at 2 a.m. when sleep lingers somewhere in the woods, not visiting my bed. But the book moves more slowly.
Then one morning, standing in the kitchen window, I catch a whiff of something new in the breeze. It will be hot again this day, but that was a promise of what’s coming and soon. Of course, it’s the end of August. My calendar is littered with markings now.
Ozark Writers Live at the Fayetteville Public Library Sept. 8. Yes, going there. 7th annual Festival of Arts at Fairfield Bay, Arkansas Sept. 15. Check, will be there with bells on. Monday, Sept. 24 an invitation to conduct a workshop at Hot Springs Village. Yep, all prepared with handouts and all. Oops, now it’s October, and on the Third taking a little trip to Springfield, MO for the Ozark Romance Authors and another workshop. The next weekend is my favorite conference in Eureka Springs. The Ozark Creative Writers. The very first writer’s conference I ever attended when I began to write over 20 years ago. Can’t miss that. Then, as soon as we return, we’re off to New Mexico. A retreat at Red River, a couple days at Eagle Nest, a few book signings and appearances for the new book, Fly With The Mourning Dove. Oh, boy.
Just a few of the things I’ve got set. Oh, I nearly forgot, the all day workshop on November 3 at Ozark Folkways out here on Scenic Highway 71.
Scattered amidst all this, of course, is our weekly critique group that’s also been going on for 20 years or so. The writer’s life.
Better stop watching the last of the hummers feasting on the deck, smelling the tall wild phlox in their final glory, taking one last dip before the night temperatures here in the Ozarks drop so low the water gets too cold, and get back to the next book. Trying something new, a contemporary fantasy about a gal who runs up against a shape changing Cheyenne, his wolf counterpart and a fellow set on wiping out all the wolves in Wyoming. And he’s ready to mount our gal’s ears on the wall alongside the furry ones.
Hope everyone has a wonderful fall season and stays busy, cause that’s what writers do. Stay busy.