A blue-gray lake above the green of the wild back yard between the trees is what I see out my window as I sit here at my big computer, waiting for inspiration. Ah, here it comes.

Tomorrow is my monthly round table meeting. We will be discussing writing nonfiction. One of the assignments is, why do you write. I write because I have all these stories in my head and the only way to get them out is to write them down. But as soon as I get rid of one, here comes another.

I scribbled little bits of stories from the time I learned to read, and I don’t remember not knowing how to read. In high school English, the teacher gave us an assignment to write a story. Which I did, about something happening to the Earth and everyone leaving in spaceships. I got an A+ on it, and never stopped writing. Well, maybe a pause here and there, like when I got married.

Getting close to the end of my novel. The bad man is back (see first two chapters) and Sam is struggling as her world is falling apart. Literally.

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