Where y'at?

Through the end of November, you can find me at www.onwritingabadnovel.blogspot.com.

On writing another bad novel.

It's decided. Despite a severe time impairment (not to mention an energy crisis), I'm going to do National Novel Writing Month in November. Yes, I'd had a beer when I committed to it, so the deal might not stand up in court, but, by God, I need it. I need to write a bad novel. For me. For my soul. Which has been sold out for life insurance, leadership meetings, and literacy classes. I need to write. That's it. No ifs, ands, or buts. And if you let me get away with slacking off and dropping out halfway through November, I'll never speak to you again, whoever you are! Take that!

Always asking for more.

I woke three times from pleasant dreams last night. Each time I woke, I cried myself back to sleep. Isn't that pathetic and selfish?

I have so much. A sweet-tempered, beautiful, healthy son. A lovely little cottage and kind neighbors. A couple of decorative hay bales and multi-colored, decorative gourds surrounding a smiling, factory-made scarecrow. Apple-scented candles and green houseplants. A rewarding career and the respect of my peers.

Dammit.

What if my co-worker was right? What if I can't go it alone?

Plywood pumpkins and cheese-cloth haunts.

'Tis the season for dead or dying gardens filled with Halloween yard art.

Across the street, our neighbors Gary and Denise have a "monster tree" in the back corner of their yard. The tree, at night glowing purple and green with grasping limb-arms and chomping white teeth, was a gift from their eldest daughter last year. I took Fain out to see it, careful to call it a Halloween tree, rather than a monster tree. Gary, the fill-in grandfather for my little boy, came out to meet us in order to gauge Fain's reaction to the monstrosity. They would have taken it down, I'm sure, in a minute if Fain had appeared frightened. However, my child knows no fear, aside from a perfectly natural fear of green vegetables. In fact, after we had admired the tree, shook hands with it, stuck our fingers in its clamping mouth, Fain said, "See you in the funny papers, ghost tree!" I love that kid.

Gary and Denise also have cut-out ghosts and pumpkins and bats and a scarecrow. I'm a little envious. I think I might buy some plywood this week and cut out my own Halloween creatures, if I can find the time.