There are times when I wonder why I write a blog. Many years ago when I first picked up a pen for profit I was told in no uncertain terms to prepare for criticism. At least then I was being paid, and somehow indecision regarding the validity of my work didn’t seem to get to…
In two large corrugated cartons stored in the corner of my office, there are many stories, which will forever remain, not found, and most likely never again to be read by anyone but me. Scripts that began with a dream, and ended in two nondescript boxes in the corner of an office. It took all…
On a day in May… A writer writesWhere he’s beenWhere he is Where he’s going All while void of coherenceForgetting his pastUnsure of his presentFearful of his future Then as the success bell tolls He’s congratulated He relates stories of his past Enjoys his present And sells many books predicting everyone’s future Still, perhaps not…
To the best of my knowledge there is no person I’ve ever met by the name of Ruth Suffield. I have no idea where the name came from. There was and is a person I wrote to who by no stretch of the imagination happens to be an extremely well thought of professional writer. I…