Consortium of Seven

When I wrote my first novel,  Rusty , I was forced by the pulbishing market to create my own publishing company. A kind literary agent told me a hard truth: Trying to sell a publisher non-genre fiction was a no-go. Either my book had to be in a defined category -- romance, Western, mystery -- or as the author I had to be a celebrity or at least know a celebrity. Alternately, I had to have a remarkable and compelling life story which involved, oh, falling out of an airplane and living to tell about it or something like that.  Speaking of falling from great heights, the quote from Norman Vincent Peale about landing among the stars just drives me crazy. It does . I think it's cruel to encourage people to take big risks without considering the tremendous smash-up that might follow. A few foolhardy. . . well, fools -- somehow do risk everything on a whim and succeed brilliantly, but most just don't.  I opened this post by saying that I'd had to start a publishing

There is a feeling out there that New Year's resolutions are dumb and you just end up gaining more weight or drinking more than you did the previous year. I think this is because most people overlook the obvious: you need a plan, a good one that is adjustable. It has to be equal to the difficulty of the desired change. Like the commitment that’s needed to quit smoking is much greater and requires more planning and work than the commitment to smile at more strangers. Past failures have caused many to become cynical about this idea of resolutions. It’s our resolve however that drives us. I don’t want to sit with my engine idling for the next year, or next ten years. It is a new decade and that makes it seem even more relevant to me. Observing sixty-five years fly by in a flash is also motivating. Any time of year is a good time to resolve to make your life or those of others better, but the New Year and new decade has some helpful symbolism; a new beginning, a fresh start.

    I had a good friend in 3rd-4th grade and we remained close after she moved to South County. Karen was petite with long brownish-blonde hair, dark eyebrows, and large green eyes that were often laughing or amused, and eyelashes that were longer than her fair share. She did not share gum, just one of her funny ways. You would not get a piece of gum from Karen. She was the first friend I made when I started school at Buder in 3rd grade. We made up little comedy routines to make each other laugh. George and Martha, two tired old people was one of them. One of us would say, "Martha?" and the other reply very tiredly "Yes, George", or, "What do you want, now, George?" And George would complain. We took turns, it was random. She had an older and younger brother, they all got along - her older brother was a bit of a heartthrob. Her mom and stepdad were good to their children and always kind and good to me. They lived on Lindenwood -- across Chippewa, in

It’s not a new idea, but it’s worth a thought, isn’t it? What would Rembrandt van Rijn’s selfies be like, had he lived now instead of then? One of the most prolific & well-known self-portraitists would surely have one of the most popular Instagram pages? But he would have to be an Influencer otherwise he’d be as poor now as he was then. He’d have to have many, many followers, perhaps a YouTube channel, a reality TV programme or two. Imagine his duck face. If Rembrandt had lived now instead of then, what would we have lost? What would we gain? Rembrandt possibly before the debt caught up with him  I actually began this train of thought musing on Gustav Klimt. He completely rejected the self-portrait. It seems almost inconceivable that someone as distinctive, as recognisable in art didn’t appear in any of his own. Gustav wasn’t interested in self-portraits or even discussing himself, saying: Whoever wants to knows something about me – as an artist, the only

  It's the Friday between Christmas and New Year's!   I'm trying to achieve and maintain a festive - or even just pleasantly relaxed - state, but sometimes with little success. Some possibly big worries lurking for me; ones that could drop on me at almost any time now, but which will at best be coming for me very early in the new year. As a result, too much of my viewing over this holiday stretch has been an attempt to lose myself and my concerns for as long as possible. (Yeah, I'm failing at adulting, and even at the perhaps seasonal message of paying forward a gift of peace to my 2020 self by dealing with problems now rather than running away from them.)    Netflix has gotten a fair chunk of my attention since Christmas Eve, as I watched the newly-arrived, 10-episode, second season of Lost In Space . Continuing the updated version of the Robinson family's adventures, based loosely on the 1960s tv series. My sole regret was that I didn't look th

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For thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in the midst of winter, the dead of winter, as we say, we have celebrated the darkness and the light. It is in the darkness of the womb that we are nourished into life It is in what we call the dark times that we learn the hard-won truths of our lives This is the time of endarkenment when we gain wisdom. For some, the mid-winter holiday is of great spiritual significance, for some, a time of remembering tribal or racial history, and at heart, for all of us it is a time of celebration of hope, of rededication, of generosity, and gratitude, At mid-winter we honor the lessons of the dark and the hope of increasing light We do not know the words they said. the chants they sang, or the dances they danced. Those are lost to us. But their stones, ah the stones remain. Behemoth stones transported, we know not how, we know not when, and placed with such great care and skill, with such kno