Still a Wonderful World

I’ve tossed around about a hundred opening sentences–in my head–and I have to say, for a writeIMG_4642 (1)r, I’m sorely lacking in the words department. But I suspect that’s because I’m sorely lacking in general and I’m just going to go ahead and blame the Beneficent Mr. Hall.

He didn’t intend to leave this earth on Father’s Day but there you have it. And so I’m left behind to figure out the bills ( he always paid ’em) and put gas in my car (he always filled it up) and cook for one (okay, we all know I was never much of a cook but I was on sort of a self-pity roll there). It’s no wonder that words are the last thing on my mind.


Except words have been a lifesaver for me.

Not my words, though. Yours. The kind words, the compassionate words, the loving words, the funny words…gosh. So many words! And every single one has meant the world to me. Never again will I wonder if a sympathy card or note really means anything. Or if I should say something to a friend who’s grieving. ¬†Or pick up the phone and call, even if I’m not sure what to say.

Now, I know better.

I’m reminded of a line from one of Mister Man’s favorite songs, What a Wonderful World:

I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do. They’re really saying I love you.

Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t ask, “How are you?”And so I thank you for asking, for all the words that make me laugh or make me cry. They–and you–have lifted me up more than you can imagine. I kinda think the Beneficent Mr. Hall would like to thank you, too.

(P.S. I’m back at The Muffin today, going on about the steps you might want to take to get yourself into a writer’s conference. I think it makes sense, but like the girl in that commercial says, “I can’t make any pwomises.”)

No More Excuses For Writer’s Block

If you’re friends with me on Facebook–and if you’re not, then come say hello!–you’ve already seen all the pictures I posted of Tiny Doors around Atlanta:


I am in love with Tiny Doors! The Beneficent Mr. Hall? Not so much. So when Juniorette Hall offered to take me on a Tiny Door adventure, I was thrilled! (So was she. I mean, Tiny Doors and me? More fun than a barrel of monkeys!):


Anyway, it wasn’t long before I started my newest WIP. And if you want to know about my “research” + idea = WIP win, take a look over at the Muffin today where I expound upon “The Best Excuse For Doing What You Love.”

And P.S. I also love those popsicles from King of Pops. D’oh. Now all I can think about is eating one of those popsicles! Wonder what Juniorette Hall is doing today?

Summer Love

School’s out for SUMMER!

Oh, my goodness, y’all. I don’t have any Junior Halls in school anymore, and Lord knows, it’s been forever since I was in school, but I still get a thrill when school’s out for summer.

When I was kid, summer was vacation and the beach and swimming and hot dogs. But mostly, summer was reading whatever I wanted to read.

All school year long, I had homework and sports and homework and chores and homework and book reports. I hated writing book reports. Mostly because we’d have to choose a book from this list of biographies, or a book from this list of historical fiction, or a book from this list of states or…well, you get the picture. It’s a wonder that school didn’t ruin reading for me.

Summer saved me. Or more accurately, the public library saved me. My mom would drive me to the big public library on Bull Street in Savannah and let me choose whatever books my little heart desired.


Thus began my love affair with the public library. Sad to say, I wasn’t true to my first love on Bull Street. As the years passed, I’ve fallen for many a public library, in cities all over Georgia. And now that I’m a writer, I’m seeing my true love in a whole new light. I mean, I thought I knew all my present library’s secrets, but I was wrong. And if you want to know why, check out “The Best-Kept Writer’s Secret” over at the Muffin. It’s one summer love I don’t mind sharing!

The Exciting Job of Writer!

DSC03525-BSo I went to the bank last week and it’s a good thing I did or I wouldn’t have anything to say at the Muffin.

Mostly, I talked about “What Successful Writers Do (Besides Writing)” and if you want to know more about those money-making ventures, then off you go!

For those of you not interested in money-making ventures (or improving your writing skills), then stick around for a little writer philosophizing. Because it happened again. At the bank, I mean. When the guy helping me order checks found out I was a writer, he literally stopped typing and looked up. Suddenly, I wasn’t a boring, middle-aged woman. I was a writer!

Why do you suppose people find writers so exciting? What is it about this profession that’s so interesting to the non-writing world? I would say it’s an arts thing–my daughter would get the same reaction when she was a dancer–but when people find out I once worked in radio, you can see the gears shift, too. So clearly, there are certain professions that appear more exotic than others.

I get lion-tamer or glass-blower or even fireman. Those are some mighty interesting jobs; then again, there’s an element of danger there. But writer? The only danger I’m in is my checking account dipping below the amount needed to keep from paying a monthly maintenance fee.

Actually, I can see how working in radio would seem exciting, too. It was fun even if I wasn’t making much money. (And by “much money”, I mean “hardly enough money to make ends meet.”) There are lots of jobs like radio that seem exciting–professional baseball player, wine taster, paranormal investigator–but really, the excitement comes in short bursts. The rest of the time, it’s just same-old, same-old boring job.

But writer? It’s an exciting burst to get a contract or sign with an agent or even see your byline out there in the world. But I don’t see John Q. Public getting all worked up over that kind of excitement. So I’m asking you, dear writer readers. What do you think it is about the profession of writing that would make a millennial look up from his desk and start a twenty minute conversation with a woman in glasses, sporting a couple age spots?

Because it seems to me that someone in such an exciting job should be making way more money. If only I could figure out why.