a slight interruption

It is a convenient excuse. I was helping my daughter, who had been living with us for a month, to get ready for her new adventure, living and working in South America. It would be disingenuous to relate this to my writing block. Every day since my last posting, I have thought today will be the day I break through and the words to this part two short story will magically appear on the page. Problem is: it doesn't work like that and I respect that. I have been reading fiction for nearly fifty years and I curse any time that I have thought “oh it’s not that hard to write this stuff.” It’s damn hard.

I intend to finish and I hope it will be publish worthy. But more importantly, I will work a lot harder at honoring the process of putting forth words for others to read. I expect that from the words of others.