One foot anchored. One foot suspended. Palms pressed together. Eyes open. Stand and face the wind.

Here’s some good news. Everybody’s writing something: short stories, books, poetry. More good news: some is actually well-crafted or even brilliant work. Bad news: adult readership is at the lowest it has ever been in the U.S.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

The last time I checked my blog and been de-blogged and was no where in sight. So surprise! It’s back and just in time. I’ve had great news from a writing friend who has been under the gun for months. This blog is for her. Hats off. Congratulations. Keep well. I know your attitude played an important part in the outcome.

Oh my gawd! Friday the thirteenth came and went and I didn’t even notice. I usually remain quietly at home, (That’s more difficult now that I’ve read home is where most of the accidents happen.)waiting for the toll of midnight that announces the “all clear.”
I’m excessively superstitous about thirteen of anything, but Friday the thirteenth is the worst. So, how come I had a normal, possibly dull, day yesterday? Hmmm. S’pose I’ve made my own bad luck in the past? Hard to believe.

Today by venturing down from my mountain retreat I became caught up in the bustle of a Sunday market–lots of fresh flowers, organic produce, strolling people, freshly made crepes–Yummmm. Walking back to my car with my clutch of tulips in one hand and a bag of pears in the other I ran into a church congregation walking out the church and around to the side grounds. Everyone carried palms. A bagpiper lead the way. His sound was breathtaking amid the churn of cars, the laughter of bicyclists just down from their morning trek and all the other noises around a town square on a Sunday morning. I stopped and listened to the piper, soaking in memories of Scotland and appreciating all that wonderful flavor of my town.

I may live. I had good or at least not such bad news from a friend I was concerned about. The sun is out–well, I’m in California and that’s not news, but still sun out helps the mood. I haven’t been rejected by an editor or an agent yet this morning, and some flowers I planted are blooming.

Today is not a good day. Today is bad day. You can tell by my simple clauses. Either that or I’m into alzheimers. Either way it is not a good day.

Here’s my philosphy for today: Everybody can write. There are a few who can write brilliantly. Some who can write well. Many who can write and get published. But even if you write brilliantly you will never be published unless you try.