Monthly Archives: February 2014

Reading A Game of Thrones

blurbbI started reading A Game of Thrones, and I’m about 275 pages into the first book. I have yet to watch any of the TV series, which is about to enter its fourth season. One of my kids is a fan of the show, and another has read all five of the books. Since I’m more of a reader than a watcher, I decided to start with the books. Maybe I’ll watch the series at some point, just not yet.

My watcher son claims that watching has given him an idea of who’s who and a picture of what they look like, and that it helped him when he started reading the novels.  But that, friends, is exactly what I don’t want, which is how come I’m reading the books first. I want to form my own mental images, form my own pictures, and not view the story through the lens of someone else’s vision. If I see the story through a lens, I want it to be my own.

Are you a watcher or a reader? Both? Neither? Do leave a comment.


Check out Tickle Us Tuesday on Exquisite Quills Lots of fun excerpts, including mine.

I remember

I was thinking about old TV shows and remembered “I Remember Mama.” I was on the commuter rail headed for  Boston, and thus lacked computer access. I could recall a few things about the set, Mama, and two of the three kids, Nels (though I spelled his name earlyMorningSkyNils) and Dagmar. I didn’t remember Kathryn, the character who is doing the remembering. The series was based on her book, “Mama’s Bank Account,” which I read long after I’d seen and enjoyed the series.

Check out,d.aWc

if you want to watch an episode.

Speaking of remembering, I thought about our place in Connecticut, the house my father built (or caused to have built) before he met and married my mother. It had a great room, long before they became fashionable, three bedrooms, and a screened porch. According to dad, his friends teased him for building such a big place while he was still single. He doubtless had the last laugh. It was on Candlewood Lake, right on the water, and the back lawn sloped down to a dock and a float. There were woods on each side, as Dad had purchased three lots — he was fond of his privacy — and built the house on the middle one. The lake was an artificial one, and I often though about the evacuated, drowned villages and homes that had been flooded when the lake was created.

Check out my author page on MuseItUp Publishing for links to my books


Smarmy Voices

One of the most annoying ads on TV right now is the one on our local stations for the ASPCA. They are urging us to contribute to save the abandoned kittens, puppies, and the like languishing in their shelters. They need funds in order to save them.

I have nothing against saving animals (I write as one of our seven dogs trolls the floor for any dropped goodies); what I object to  is the blatant manipulation of the ad. Specifically, the tryly annoying, cloying voice-over.

809421303_2865011867_0“Don’t,” I want to say. “Simply speak in a normaloice and ask us to contribute. You’ll have a far greater response.”

At least, that’s my theory. As for me, right now I cope by hitting MUTE.

My poem, The Wayfarer, published

My poem, The Drive Home published

Check out Brad’s interview

Morning Mediation

I am reading Natalie Goldberg’s “Writing down the Bones,” and this morning I wrote by hand. I am again reminded by this that the act of taking pen to paper, as opposed to hand to keyboard, is special, not to be replaced, on for the other. There are at times no 208fea0c5eec247989b810beae2abb43substitutes, no replacements, or if one must be used instead of the other, allowance must Skybe made for the difference. A spinet is not a piano. They do not sound the same, nor do they feel the same under one’s fingers. One may play Mozart on either, but the sound in one’s ear is unique.

A flash piece of mine recently published:

A recent interview:

Recent review of “Geek Games”

A few references I’m adding to my website thanks to Carole Malone:


Another site that is similar is:


Book  “Writing for Emotinal Impact” by Karl Iglesias,