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Dropping in to say hello, world.  To let you know I’m well.  And that the writing goes well, too.  Most days.

There are lesser days, though, when nothing goes right, when I erase more than I write, and wonder why I think I can deliver this story.  On those days, I’m not so well. Because the well runs dry.

Have you ever wondered how authors of other centuries wrote such beautiful stories with paper and quill and ink wells?

Writing should be easier today.  Thanks to digital keystrokes.  And tools like cut and paste.  And no messy carbons.  And no need to blot.

But no. It’s not easy. No, it’s not.

Not.  Notty.  Knotty.  Now, there’s a word.  There’s so much story in my memory that, too often, it becomes KNOTTY.  I don’t know which thread to pull, first.  I pull one.  Then, put it back.  Another.  Nope.  Not than one, either.  God help me untangle the nots.

I’m learning to back away on ‘lesser’ days.  To leave the blank screen and go outside for fresh air.  What is it about a blank screen that causes words to die?  And what is about being outside in the garden that invites words to come?  Complete sentences, mind you.  One pretty line after another.  Ones I’ve never thought before.  Ones that feel so right I rush back in to preserve them.  Lest I forget.

My ghostly grandfather, who plays a prominent role in ‘my’ story, must be worried about something.  He’s been dropping into my dreams the last two weeks.   A few nights ago, he told me I needed to season the story a little.  Then, handing me what looked like an ordinary salt shaker — he told me to “just shake some of “this” on it.”  That “it” would help my stories sort themselves out.  “Just like cream rinse helps tangled hair.”


It’s funny how dreams work.  I mean, really — salt shakers with secret seasoning?  But, every since Papa seasoned it…..

How I wish I knew that secret recipe so I could share it.  But here’s a dreamy thought — send me a link, and I’ll forward Papa to you through a dream.