The last chapter of the reissued version of THE ARCHIVES posted a few days ago. I had fun tweaking it. Not much changed from the original version I posted on FictionPress in 2011, except I had to completely rewrite 15 chapters because I felt like they were unrealistic. (Hey, 15 chapters out of 365 counts as “not much.”) Because I’m a perfectionist, I may take a look at it again at some point in the future because one can never eradicate all the typos and inconsistencies the first (or even second) time around. But for now, that’s it. Hope you liked it!
I keep vacillating on the next story I’m going to post here, so it may be awhile before I get to that. I also have been thinking about just plain blogging and musing like I used to. It’s not that I have nothing to write about. On the contrary, I can’t keep the ideas out of my head. I question the worth of what I have to say more often, though, because others say the same thing much more clearly than I ever could.
Book reviews would be the easiest thing to post about, but I am still stuck on my book about the Kennedy men (Laurence Leamer). The last piece of fiction I read was Darling Rose Gold (Stephanie Wrobel), which was based on the real-life story of Gypsy Rose. (Google it if you don’t know what it is and want to be horrified.)
What I really want to write about is God, but every time I consider writing something “profound,” I think that perhaps I should meditate and listen to God instead of writing about him or talking to him. I’m also afraid of accidentally falling into heresy or leading someone astray. Basically, I feel like I need to learn more before I can say much of anything. In the meantime, I recommend Henri Nouwen’s The Return of the Prodigal Son, which is beautifully written and succinctly summarizes the garbled mess in my brain (and saves me time trying to get it written out).
That’s enough for now. I hope you all are doing well. (This post is also a public service announcement: Step away from the news and/or Internet if it’s making you depressed.)