are those days when I work on my novel. Live From the Road is completed, waiting for some unknown entity to read an excerpt or my carefully crafted query and say, "This is the best thing I've ever read." And my fifth novel, begun three years ago and left on the shelf while I moved and wrote another book, is now out of the closet. I'm intrigued by the story I began, but with the distance provided by my life, I am excited to see where I need to tighten the plot, create more tension, describe characters in detail. Right now it's a series of threads not yet woven into a tapestry. That's the challenge and the joy: To take the threads I have dangling over the page and tie them all together into one complete quilt.
At first, I thought being published was the reward and so I always looked to the future - that lofty long-term goal. Once the glow faded from book signings that could mean 40 or 50 books sold to the book signings where 5 made me feel successful, the glow of being published has faded. And now I am happiest simply writing and creating the stories.
First and foremost, in everything I write, whether it's a news release, a report or a novel, I am a storyteller.
The End
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