Saturdays have become my day to walk to the library and back, usually with a load of books and dvds. If there is a class, like today, I usually stay. I didn't this time though. Too much going on at home. Or so I thought. Since both my guys are asleep at this point, I could have stayed. No matter. I'm digressing. Usually on my walk I start comparing this town I live in to the fictional town of Mayberry. I feel safe enough to walk the five or so blocks to the library or the grocery store. I know that crime exists in this community, but I've been blessed enough for it not to have touched my family. So far though, that post has not "gelled" in my mind enough to present it here. Hopefully it will soon though.
Always on Saturday I look around and see the housework that needs to be done, but I've claimed these hours for myself. I read, I watch, and lately, I write. At least since I was a young teenager I've had a story burning to be told. I've written it a few times but never quite finished it. I'd set it aside for weeks, months, even years at a time. Occasionally another story would take its place, but this particular one has always been on the back burner. The characters grow and continue with their lives in my head, but they beckon me with this story that they want told. I am not a superstitious person really, but I don't want to jinx the flow by discussing it too much. I will talk about it a bit privately, however. It involves two teenagers who find themselves faced with a really big problem. This week I've been able to write about three pages a day (single spaced) on this book. I've wanted to be a published author for as long as I can remember. I've played around a few times, and had