Yesterday was a tough one, the second anniversary of my dad's death. I spent last year in KC comforting my mama. But what struck me this time was that there was no special marker of the day. I guess if I were to do something commemorative, I'd pick his birth rather than death day anyway. But in any case, there it was. Hard to forget a sudden death on a Friday the 13th.
As I mentioned yesterday, F&M is cooling for the next revision round, and I haven't started on a new pb yet. I'd toyed with an article to no avail over the past couple of days. Not writing is hard for me, harder when I need the portal out of my reality. I know, I know... But truth is, I'd done all the confronting of my feelings I had energy to process and wanted somewhere else to go.
Yesterday, I started a few novels--which I'll try again later--but finally found comfort, fascination, solace, challenge, and inspiration in Side Effects by Amy Koss Goldman (Roaring Brook, 2006) and an interlocking short story collection, Bleed by Laurie Faria Stolarz (Hyperion, 2006).
Bravo to both authors and thanks!
