BLOG TO REFLECT HOW DID I END UP HERE?
This afternoon is the same afternoon that we have had for several weeks now. Bill Murray was stuck in Puxatany, Pennsylvania repeating February second over and over again in the movie Groundhog Day. I have been repeating whatever date between June 27th and today August 7, 2022. It certainly beats being in Pennsylvania in February, but each day has been sunny and between 95 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Even when you use the Celsius scale where 32-35 sounds a lot less stifling, it makes doing any activity outside unpleasant, except drinking with friends at the local establishments, the ones that have shade.
Yesterday friends Mike and Denise from New Hampshire and Lucy from England and I managed to extend lunch of oysters and mussels-grilled over an open wood fire-and lots of local rose wine to three hours next to the oyster beds in Etang du Thau, a mere ten-minute walk from the center of the village. The breeze and the covered deck provided the air conditioning. Today, however, is a day for writing.
Since I last blogged, my projects have spiraled out of control. My third novel, The Monument, is finished and on its way to be finally edited and formatted. It's a tribute to the Americans who parachuted into this area late in WWII to join with the French resistance. I plan its release for October. I have tried something different in that I was in the early stages of my fourth novel, The Darker Side of the Dune, when a great idea erupted and led to three pages of notes for a fifth. I couldn't resist the temptation and presently I am about halfway through number four and a third of the way through number five, The Inferno is Smoldering. If you recognize the reference to Dante in the title of number five, yes, I did bring the characters out of retirement in a new fresh plot.
I did not believe that trying to balance two novels at one time was wise, but it does allow for flexibility, if I get stuck on one plot, I put it away and hope the other is fresh. Something else I have begun doing is reading some of my short stories and poetry published earlier. It’s been a remarkable experience. I forgot how much I love some of the stories. I teared up when I reread Fishing With Grandpa and smiled when I finished Getting to know Flick. And then I ran into this poem that was written long before the traumatic last fifteen months. I finish with Eulogy
When two were we
Yes you and me
I failed to see
Your wayward gaze
The joyous days
Sped by in haze
But in your gaze
A distance grew.
I never knew
The other you
The stone heart who
Tossed love aside
Now eyes are wide
But dead inside
For I abide
In empty space.
A radiant face
Abundant grace
Now in love's place
An ache arose.
A cold wind blows
Through lust that froze
Now I must close
My eulogy.