In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

On this first day in Lent, I continue to pray for common sense in accordance to American guns laws. I pray for those injured, for the family and loved ones of the person that has died. I pray for peace in hearts and minds, and for human beings to matter more than weapons of mass destruction.

Over an hour ago I snapped the photo above. I was going to write a post about completing the binding on this quilt, all to remain being the rest of the hand-stitching, both for the binding and quilting. I tacked on that binding, then did some laundry, made a cup of lemon tea, then sat down to write this post. But first I felt compelled to check Wikipedia, which never happens when I'm ready to write an entry. I merely sit, type, clean up.... I had already read my Wiki for the morning, hours ago. Hours ago Wikipedia had yet to put on their In the news column the latest mass shooting, this time in Lewiston, Maine. But now I know what happened there last night, and writing about quilt bindings seems rather useless, pointless, irrelevant. Once again many people are dead because someone had an assault rifle and employed it not only as a wide-scale murder device, but as a weapon of terrorism. Some of the dead weren't shot, but killed in the stampede that followed the shooting. I have...

My heart aches for what has happened in Colorado Springs; another attack on LGBTQ Americans, another mass shooting. Another example of extremism within this nation that seems unable to wrench itself from gun violence and intolerance. The question of why is complicated, also in my opinion frighteningly simple; people are fearful and at times they choose to assume a mantle of power to combat their insecurities. Weapons of instantaneous destruction are readily available. And another community is shattered. Slogans are rife, social media full of condolences and some backbiting. But what doesn't change is how fragile are human beings, ripped apart by bullets and loathing. Murdered by rifles and prejudice. In a week where we as citizens of the United States are to give thanks, a dark cloud hovers, and perhaps the most important element regarding our gratitude is our lives. Freedom and liberty are bandied about but not all experience that sensation. This is one nation, allegedly under God...

After a rainy weekend, dahlias remind that despite the darkness, beauty awaits. Amid the tragedy in Highland Park this week, I've been trying to maintain an even keel. Soon I'll release my next book; there is much to do between the final edits and watching as a tale goes live. Synopses are written, tags chosen, covers are sorted, so many elements that I should have a list, although I don't. Does that mean I wing it with every new release? Maybe. But for now I'll keep with my usual routine. What is that routine? It's a combination of formatting the manuscript in Word, although this book was written in Open Office, so fingers crossed when I upload it as a Word Doc all turns out as it should. Covers are my most tricky element, but now that they are ready, all I have left is reading through a few chapters just to confirm that the story is.... It's done, it's been vetted, it's merely a day or so from going from my possession to whomever deems it worth their t...

For days I've been trying to write a post-vacation entry. Part of my hesitance has been trying to clear the backlog of things to do ; laundry and gardening have taken precedence, a little housecleaning, some editing and sewing which have been necessary for my mental well-being. Because much of my silence here is related to how relevant is this blog to what is happening in America concerning mass shootings. It seemed inappropriate to start a post about writing fiction when again people have been murdered. What does it matter how hopeful are my novels when guns are so easily accessible and politicians so unwilling to enact the proper safeguards regarding that accessibility. I grew up on a ranch, my dad hunted deer. Some of those deer heads adorned our living room walls and I never gave that aspect of life a second thought. When I was sixteen my dad's girlfriend took her life with a gun. I don't know what kind, a handgun I assume, but the deer heads remained although my father...