Friday, September 30, 2011

Show Me State of Being

by G.Parker

A couple of weeks ago I was able to participate in a writing retreat.  It was one night, up in a fabulous cabin away from pretty much any distraction you could have.  It was great.  I got loads of writing done.  I remember sitting there as we were typing away on our laptops that it would be a good place to use in a story some time. It's not every day you get to enjoy the peace and quiet of a log cabin that looks more like a ski lodge.  The logs were thick and the windows were large, allowing a great view of the fields and mountains.  The rustic feel was kind of off set by the hat on the moose, but you still got the impression it was a home away from home.  I loved the slate floor, and the large fireplaces.  It reminded me of my sister's cabin in Fish Lake, which is much of the same design and decor.

As I thought about it today, I realized it was part of the whole 'tell me' or 'show me' of writing.  Most writers will tell you all about something, description of a location, item or person.  A real good writer will show you with words in such a way as you feel you can easily see it in your mind, you can picture it and feel like you are there.  I think it's something all of us strive for.

That is something we try to encourage in my critique group.  Especially one writer who is very adamant about it.  He'll say "that wasn't in the book we read," meaning, despite what the author thought they were conveying, that was not what the reader picked up.  It's not easy to get it down, and we usually use too many words when a few will do.  The whole idea is to find descriptive words that aren't too flowery, or over blown, so to speak.  You want to be real, down to earth and have the words easy to read.

I know I don't quite have it down, sometimes it's easier than others.  There are some authors that are excellent, and reading their work will help yours.  Who is your favorite author with description?  I'd like to know.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Stretching the Creative Muscle

by Cheri Chesley

A few years ago, I got it in my head to write a short story as a gift to one of my nieces. The story flowed out beautifully and I was able to get it to her just in time for her birthday.

Full of inspiration, I thought how great it would be if I could write a birthday story for each of my nieces that year. And, if I did that, wouldn't it be great to include my daughters too?

The problem is that I have ten nieces, two daughters and a stepdaughter. And, let's be honest, not all of them love to read. I wrote two stories for two nieces that year.

They're good stories, fun stories. One--geared for a 9 yr old mystery lover--was a light hearted mystery set in Paris about a girl and can crime solving duo. The other--aimed at a 15 yr old--was a darker, more gothic themed murder mystery involving a wedding, terrifying dreams and betrayal, set in Scotland.

One is around 17,000 words and the other is 9,800 words. I've been thinking they'd make great ebooks. And what better time to launch a mystery/suspense than around Halloween? Just ask my friend, ELIZABETH. :) I can't possibly compete with her in levels of awesomeness (her book is getting RAVE reviews already), but I'm still going to launch The Price of Love in the days before Halloween, when everyone is looking for a good thrill.

It's going to be fun!

Saturday, September 24, 2011

The Brick Joke

By Keith N Fisher

Many years ago, while driving a produce truck, I heard an obscure joke I never forgot. Subsequently, I’ve told it many times with varied results. It’s not very funny, but it’s cute. I’m not sure who wrote it, but here it goes. Be sure to read all the way through, because I’m going to make a point about writing.

Once, there was a man named George. He wanted to build a brick barbecue. He made plans, and calculated exactly how many bricks he would need. Then, he marched into the home improvement store and asked for seventy-one bricks. The clerk told him that like doughnuts, the bricks he wanted were packaged in dozens.

“But I don’t want seventy-two bricks,” George said. “What would I do with the other brick?”

The clerk responded with, “I don’t know. Perhaps you could use it as a door stop?”

George shook his head and went to the mercantile. He was told the same thing but since they were a wholesale business, he would only be able to get them by the pallet.

“How many would that be?” George asked.

“Ninety-six. The counter man said.

George did the math in his head “Then I would have twenty-four bricks left over.”

“Yeah but you would get the wholesale price.”

George decided to go to the brick plant.

“That’s correct. There are ninety six bricks on each pallet.” The yardman said. “But we discount each pallet after the first one. The more you buy the cheaper it is.”

“So I can get a really good deal if I want to build five barbecues. But that would leave me with fifteen bricks. Can’t you just break up a pallet?”

The yardman shook his head.

Finally, George relented, went back to the home improvement store, and purchased seventy-two bricks. He had a wonderful time building his barbecue and sure enough, he had one brick left over. George stood there looking around, wondering what to do with the brick. Suddenly his blood pressure shot through the roof and do you know what he did with that brick?


He tossed into the air as hard as he could.

Okay, Okay, I told you it wasn’t very funny.

On that same afternoon in the produce truck, my friend told me another joke,

Back in the days of designated smoking areas on commercial airplanes, a woman named Jenny tried to get a non-smoking ticket of a commuter flight. She was told there were no more seats in that section and if she wanted to get on the plane she would need to sit with the smokers.

“I can’t do that,” Jenny complained. I can’t stand it, besides my dog is allergic.”

“Well, if you want, we can check the dog as baggage,” the ticket agent said.

“Not Fifi. She’s like a family member.” Jenny said.

“I’m sorry ma’am. You could wait until the next flight.”

“When would that be?” Jenny asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Jenny paced the ticket area and finally decided on a plan. It was a short flight and perhaps she could appeal to the kindness of her seatmates. She purchased the ticket.

Boarding early, Jenny found her seat on the aisle, over the wing and sat down with Fifi in her lap. Soon, a burley businessman with an unlit cigar in his mouth, sat next to her. Jenny introduced herself and Fifi.

“My name is Dave,” he said.

Contrary to Jenny’s nature, she chatted with Dave about their reasons for being on the plane and when the plane started down the runway, she assumed his sympathies were with her.

Soon they were in the air and some of the passengers began to light up. Jenny complained to Dave about her aversion and Fifi’s allergies. Dave raised a lighter to his cigar, glanced at her, and put his cigar away.

After a while, Dave fidgeted, and reached for his cigar. Jenny sighed.

“Don’t worry. Since this plane isn’t pressurized, I can open this window. I’ll blow my smoke outside,” Dave said.

Jenny relented, knowing Dave was actually trying to work with her, but the window blew Dave’s smoke right toward her. She coughed and Dave snuffed out the cigar.

Still more time passed and Dave lit his cigar again. This time, Fifi started sneezing. When Jenny complained, Dave said, “Look. I love this cigar about as much as you love that dog. I’ll make a deal with you.” Dave pointed out the window. “I’ll toss my cigar out the window if you toss your dog.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jenny said. “I can’t do that to Fifi.”

Dave nodded his head in self-righteousness.

Before long Fifi was gasping for breath and Jenny had an idea. “We could switch seats.”

Dave huffed and climbed over her to stand in the aisle. Jenny slid across and took a deep breath of fresh air. She put Fifi on the ledge and encouraged her to breathe. “Thank you, Dave,” Jenny turned to him and said. Seconds later, the unthinkable happened. Fifi climbed out the window.

Jenny was inconsolable. Dave reached over and dropped his cigar out the window in a symbolic gesture but Jenny didn’t care. How would she ever be able to go on without Fifi?

After a while, the plane had grown quiet except for Jenny’s sobs. All the smokers had extinguished their cigarettes and Jenny glanced out the window toward the wing. Do you know what she saw?


Was the Dog sitting on the wing, smoking the cigar?


Nope. With wide-eyed amazement, Jenny looked and saw the brick . . .

If I hadn’t been driving a produce truck between Salt Lake and Provo, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed this two-part joke. I was sequestered and bored, besides, my friend told it much, better than I can. The trick is in the timing and acting oblivious to the fact the first part is stupid, while keeping their attention in the second part. Never the less, the responses when I tell it, surprise me sometimes.

Recently, in critique group we addressed the problem of a book that reads like two different stories in the same story. There is the first part, which doesn’t appear to relate the second part, and seems like an entirely different book. In the end, however, both parts come together.

A suggestion was made to publish it as a two-part story. Other than connectivity, it’s a great piece of writing, but I’m a little unsure about the two-part idea. As writers we often write sequels but if we are good writers each story will be stand alone, not dependent on the other.

In a two-part the writer is obligated to make the first part exciting enough to carry the reader into the second book. Then if the second part lets them down, the reader will never forget that. When I tell the brick joke, it causes serious doubts about my joke telling abilities.

There is also the inherent danger of adding fill to a manuscript in order get the word count up for two books.

I think it would work if the parts were equally interesting. Each part needs a complete arc that provides closure for the reader. Also the first part needs a few teasers that lead the reader into the second part, then makes the reader glad he took the time to read.

If the second part of the brick joke had been funny enough, it would’ve been worth the time it took to get there. Make all your writing worth the time to get to the end.

Please forgive my stupid joke and consider, if I had posted this blog in two parts, would you have read it all? Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Reviewing is Difficult...

by G.Parker

I volunteer to review books simply because I like to read and I really like free books.  ;)  However, agreeing to review them is the difficult part.  What if you don't like the book?  What if it stinks?  What if it's the greatest thing since peanutbutter and it makes your own writing look bad?  You'll want to throw in the towel and never write another word again. I've got two books to read and review.  I've finished one, and now at least I have more time to do the next one.  Publishing is a low budget thing, ya know?  So you got to work with what you've got, and if people are slow mailing the book, there's not much you can do.

The first book was nothing like I thought it would be.  Unfortunately, my first thought was that the author should have been part of a critique group, they would have helped her with some small things.  Otherwise, I enjoyed it and thought it was a good story.

Have you ever done a review before?  Have you wondered how best to talk about it?  Do you give the whole story line away?  Or do you just give enough to wet the appetite and encourage the readers?  What if you can't stand it?

I often wondered what the response would be if I wrote that the author should never have published... grin.  Fortunately, that wasn't the case with this book, or any of the books I've reviewed.  They were all worth reading, if only once.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

The Indie Path

by Cheri Chesley

More and more of my friends are embarking on the Indie path. For those uncertain, Indie means independently published, or self published. KAREN HOOVER recently launched the second book in her fantasy series. And my friends CHRISTINE and ALI have their books coming later this year. Mind you, this is just a sampling of the amazing books coming from my wealth of author friends. I'm so excited for each of them.

At least in my little circle, there has been a growing trend of Indie publishing. I recently wrote about my own options on my BLOG because it has been weighing heavily on my mind.

Truly, there are lots of ways to publish our works. It's great to have options, but I find myself carefully weighing the pros and cons of each option against the book in hopes of determining that particular book's best path. And while I recognize making money as a writer would be amazing, my goal is to share my stories with others. If I were writing to be rich I'd write stuff I knew would sell. Instead I'm guided by my heart, and the heart is a terrible financier. :)

For instance, I have a book that is part of a series partially published. If I get turned down by my current publisher, not many other publishers would be willing to step into a series in the middle. I'd most likely self publish that one.

However, I've recently had a story idea that I believe is strong and powerful and could have a lot of draw. I'd probably seek traditional publication for that one.

There's something to be said for the cliche "Don't put all your eggs in one basket." I like that I can traditionally publish and self publish, if it means more people have the opportunity to come across my works. I appreciate what I've learned--and continue to learn--about the writing craft. It makes a better quality book no matter which publishing direction I choose.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


by C. LaRene Hall

Most everyone has dreams – some come true and others go by the wayside. Sometimes we work to make the dream happen. I honestly believe that writers have to strive harder than most to make sure their dreams occur.

Some of us are lucky and have a special someone that spurs us on to success. I lost my special someone earlier this year, and it’s taken a while to get past that and get on with life without that encouragement. He always remembered the day I was supposed to post my blog, and I’ve missed him asking me if I remembered to post that day. He wasn’t a reader, but he constantly supported my writing and encouraged me to attend writing conferences.

Remembering this makes me want to do better. He would be disappointed if he knew I’ve been so neglectful. Last week I finally had a breakthrough and for the first time in six months, I actually sat and wrote for hours. I’m finally going to finish the books I’ve began.

Next week when I post I’m going to tell you about the great writer’s workshop (Roundup) I attended last weekend. My computer at home crashed and I’m not able to pull up my notes this week, but next week things should be back to normal.

Saturday, September 17, 2011


By Keith N Fisher

I went to the doctor the other day. No big deal you might say, but believe it or not, I haven’t seen a doctor in thirteen years. Before that, it was probably twelve. Not that I have anything against them, I just have other things to spend money on.

Hearing the diagnosis, with more test results to follow, made me reflect on what I’ve done with my life. Things have changed a lot since the picture at the right was taken. That’s me on the left, being manhandled into the picture by my brother.

I spent my childhood in an almost Norman Rockwell type of existence. My friends and I could pack a lunch in the morning, be gone all day and never run into another house. There were farms and ranches where we lived and if we went far enough, there was Utah Lake.

We were free to let our imaginations run wild and we did. There were sand dunes, and orchards. There were abandoned houses we believed were haunted. Yes I had a great childhood.

As a teenager in the late sixties and seventies, life became complicated. Turbulent times called for difficult choices. Many of us were confused. We didn’t want to die in Southeast Asia, but we learned patriotism in the Boy Scouts. We built rope bridges and pole towers, went camping and let our hair grow. I barely missed having to register for the draft, but I have friends and relatives who served.

Later, after high school, I worked in the construction trades and wasted a lot of time without any direction. Then, through a series of events I found God. I returned to my roots and went on a mission at twenty-six years old.

I married my high school sweetheart after, and went about making a living. I worked on the degree I’d started before, but Architecture had lost its charm. Life has a way of making you change your plans.

I’ve made a living in several different occupations, grabbing experience along the way. Now, I use that experience plotting stories. I expect to live another fifty years, putting my adventures to good use.

Thanks for letting me ramble. Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

The New Idea

by Cheri Chesley

Imagine you have cultivated a brand new story idea into a full-fledged novel synopsis. We authors love that feeling; something fresh and new to build and develop. Ah, the bliss. There's nothing quite like writing the story for the first time.

I'm there right now. I have a new idea that, in the idea phase, I'm calling The City of Light. It's a terrible title, really, but that's part of the growth and development of the idea. The real title will come later. You can read about the story HERE on my author blog.

After the story is developed and that first draft written, we delve into rewrites and edits. I'm also there. 40 out of 271 pages done, few changes made so far, but there will be bigger changes that will alter my editing time. Soon, though, perhaps next month, The Tyrant King will finally **actually** be ready for my editor. I made a mistake with the previous draft and sent it to people I know love the story, without considering how brutal they may or may not be to the plot. They weren't, and, in my haste, I sent it off to the editor only to get it back with some kind suggestions that it just wasn't ready yet. She was right, of course. I've since developed a more complicated subplot, added clues to solve the mysteries within the story, and caught some glaring holes in the story arc that needed attention.

Each phase of idea-to-novel development is important. Granted, I'm not a fan of the editing phase, but I think that's because it takes so long. I've never been a patient person. Maybe this is Heavenly Father's way of developing that particular trait in me. :)

So, what's your newest idea? I've shared mine. Please share yours with me.

Saturday, September 10, 2011


Wow, I’ve been absent for a long time. Sorry – I’ll try to do better in the future.

Tristi Pinkston asked me to do a book review today for a book, “All That Was Promised” by Vickie Hall. Many of you know I love historical fiction novels. This book was no exception. I do have to tell everyone that I had a hard time putting the book down. There was lots of action, and suspense, and even love stories. The story was well told and I’m anxious to read other books by Vickie Hall.

The story starts out with Richard Kenyon, a young Methodist minister listening to a Mormon missionary, Ben Lachlan. Ben shares his unusual message with Richard which leaves him questioning his life work. Richard’s wife Leah is not so anxious to have her life turned upside down.

I have visited Cardiff before and was excited to see those pictures in my mind brought back to life. The descriptions of the locality were so familiar. Vickie also was able to bring each of her characters to life. I felt like many of them could have been my friends.

I was amazed at the many violent persecution stories that Vicki shared in this story. The saints in Wales certainly suffered a lot for their new found religion. The story certainly kept me on the edge of my seat. The many twists and turns in every chapter kept me wanting to turn pages. I was actually disappointed when the story was finished because I wanted more.

If you enjoy historical fiction, I would certainly encourage you to read this book. I am displaying the purchase link.

Good People

By Keith N Fisher

Along with James Dashner writing an article in the current issue of Writer’s Digest, I crossed a threshold. He was one of the published authors I met at the first writer’s conference I attended. I feel vested in his success because I knew him before the Thirteenth Reality.

While on a family campout, I impressed one of my relatives with the fact I’d met Brandon Sanderson. Of course meeting him was a big deal, but he’s just a normal guy who happens to write popular fiction.

Everyone in my critique group is published. So, when someone talks about one of those authors and the books they’ve written, It’s fun for me to remember their books coming to critique group. I don’t try to impress anyone, however, most people don’t really believe I know those authors anyway.

Have you ever heard the statement, it’s not what you know, but who you know? I have a friend who went to a very popular national conference. The event is geared toward fans, but authors, publishers, and agents have a place, too. My friend met some powerful people in the business who are now helping with her career.

It’s a good feeling to attend a writer’s event and be recognized by famous people. To have them call me by name and ask about my work is precious. In a business with so much inherent competition, that seems strange, but the industry is full of nice people. Perhaps, the pay it forward or the give back theories are partly responsible. I think, however, it’s a personality trait. Whatever inspires people to write also makes them kind.

Yes there have been exceptions, but you will find them in every rule.

As I look back on my experiences with writers, I’m humbled by the acts of selflessness. I’ve seen anonymous helping hands extended toward struggling writers. I’ve seen people taken under wings and careers built on an introduction. I’m blessed to know so many nice people and I hope to measure up.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Friday, September 09, 2011


by G.Parker

As I was watching a DVD the other night, it occurred to me that writers have a variety of vehicles with which to express themselves.

I know that's not a new thought, and one that you are probably fully aware of, but I think it's interesting.  You see, we have print, video, music, whatever the human condition, we have a chance to voice our opinion.  To champion a cause.  To debate the validity of a thought or action.  Where we have voice, we have vehicle, and some writers dive in with both feet.

It was part of the reason I started a blog.  A blog is something I can control, can put my own voice to and gets me out into the world.  I feel that even though it's not a popular blog or read by millions, it's still my chance to have my voice heard.

While this is a good thing, sometimes it drives me crazy when I'm subjected to someone else's passion.  Take the movie we'd watched, Wall-e.  On the surface it is a cute, romantic, sweet story of two robots from totally different worlds coming together.  But under that story is the whole bit about a large corporation taking over the planet, global warming and garbage out of control.  Over hundreds of years.  It bugs me EVERY time.  I think, right, that stuff would all still be here then??  Not a chance, the jungle would have taken over a long, long time ago, my friend, despite what you'd like the common person to believe.  Or kids, for that matter, since the movie was made for children viewing.

See, that's where the vehicle begins other things, like debates and opinions and get the idea.  It's what fuels the economy, or the magazine, newspaper or radio business.  Opinions, passions, and differences of opinion are what keep us communicating and finding the vehicle we want to express ourselves.

Which vehicle is your favorite way to express yourself?

Thursday, September 08, 2011

by Cheri Chesley

By the time you read this, I will have moved already. :) It's also my birthday (last week, the 1st). lol.

(Image courtesy of

Looking back, in my life I've lived in 3 states, 7 cities and 7 wards. In 15 yrs of marriage, we've moved 8 times. This month makes number 9. sigh.

You'd think I'd have developed a system by now to make packing and moving easier. I haven't. We're collecting boxes and accepting help wherever we can, and I still feel overwhelmed by it all.

I seriously hate moving.

But, packing to move is a lot like the process of editing out certain scenes, dialogue or segments of our stories. As I sit there with a box and a pile of things to put in it, I go through that pile and get rid of everything that isn't necessary.

And, if it really is difficult, I ask myself if we had a fire and I lost everything, would I miss this? I know that sounds dramatic, but I have to ask myself similar questions about things I cut from my stories.

It's not secret, when I published The Peasant Queen, my publisher asked me to cut my 440 page manuscript down to less than 300 pages. At times, I had to be brutal. It was not easy. In some cases, it was downright painful. I saved everything I cut, certain I'd revisit the segments and maybe add them back in later in the series.

I've never looked at that file since.

Similarly, there are items I've left behind in our many moves and never missed them.

I still hate packing. ;)

There's a point where you have to ask yourself if this thing you want to keep is absolutely essential. When we downsized from our 6 bedroom house across town to this little apartment, I asked myself that question a lot. Now, facing a cross-country move, I'm asking myself again. What is so important I have to take it 1200 miles? Obviously, my DI furniture can stay. It'd be easier and cheaper to replace it when we get there than to pay for the bigger truck to haul it all out there.

Editing is so like that. What do you want to carry? What is absolutely essential to the story, that the reader cannot do without? What can be replaced--written in a better, more concise way later?

When it comes to stuff, there are many things I'll gleefully throw away. Writing is much harder.

Wednesday, September 07, 2011


By Darvell Hunt

If you've ever wished your DNA would change to give you superpowers to fight inter-dimensional monsters, so you could prevent the Earth from getting destroyed, then UPGRADER: RE-ENGINEERED by Terry Tibke is the right book for you!

While this book seems to be targeting the YA market with characters in high school, the writing, artwork, and book-length seem to target the middle-grade audience. In any case, younger readers who like fantastical stories in fast-paced out-of-this-world settings should enjoy reading about hero Dylan and his DNA-changing adventures. See what he does about an inter-dimensional rift that has opened to Earth, which could unleash untold evils upon our world!

You can grab a copy of Terry's new book on Amazon in paperback or Kindle version, or you check out his blog at:

Saturday, September 03, 2011

Writing is an Enigma—Writing is Life’s Blood

By Keith N Fisher

Each day I work, sleep, and write a little. Some days, I write a lot, but not without paying a toll. I work at night so when I sleep, I feel guilty about being lazy. There is so much daylight out there that I’m wasting. I wake after two hours, force myself to go back to sleep, and never get enough.

When I write, I think of all the yard work, home repairs, and honey-do’s I’m neglecting. It feels great when I’m in the zone and writing, but what about my lawn?

Currently, The Hillside is at the publisher, waiting for a decision. The sequel is written and I’m going through the edits. Eternal Tapestries, My Brother’s Keeper, and The Trophy are all in the do-over stage. I’m writing the last chapters of Star Crossed, and I’m working on my cookbook.

The Latter has been a daunting task for me. Cooking is easy and I have dozen’s of recipes, both written, and in my head. The problem is formatting. As the director of many cooking competitions I’m no stranger to compiling recipe books, but a cookbook should be different. It’s hard, but I’m making progress.

In the midst of all of this, I wrote an outline for a national market book that’s been floating in my head. I wish I could write full time, but then again . . .

Have you seen the movie, 2012? In it there’s a scene when a man, (an author), takes his children camping in Yellowstone and there are strange things going on. The scene starts when its night, the children are going to bed and he’s on the Internet trying to figure it out. The daughter says, “Dad, you said you wouldn’t work on your book.”

He puts his laptop aside and says, “I’m not, I’m doing something else.”

That says it all. As writers we take our work with us, everywhere. My daughter said something similar to me once. She didn’t want to compete for my time while camping. So, now, I hide my laptop and get up at three a.m. so I can write and still give my time to her. Of course, now, she’s a teenager and doesn’t get out of bed before noon, so maybe I should sleep in.

Yes, as the title of this post says, writing can be a mysterious. What drives a person to finish one book while writing and drafting others? What keeps us going in the face of rejection? I don’t know but after all this time, I can’t not, write. It has become a part of who I am. Writing is life’s blood if you will.

So, I wake up after two hours of sleep, write the scene I’ve been thinking about, and try catch brief moments of slumber while feeling guilty about letting my garden go to weeds.
Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Friday, September 02, 2011

Hummingbirds and other Rambles

by G.Parker

Okay - I had several ideas for this blog, but none of them got put into an organized thought pattern.  I've been reading some of my older blogs and I think I used to be a lot funnier.  I don't know, but I think the swiss cheese factor has lessened the humor ability in my brain.  You remember how I mentioned I have swiss cheese for a brain?  Lot's of holes up there...

Anyway, I was glancing through Facebook the other day and my sister-in-law had posted "Hummingbirds can't walk."  I thought that was rather random.  Okay, so they can't walk.  I guess they don't need to, they can fly faster than anything else can walk, and when they aren't flying, they're sitting on the feeders, eating.  We are the proud owners of two Humingbird feeders, and it is the funnest thing to watch them come eat.  Sometimes they remain flying, sometimes they stop and  drink.  They're legs are awfully tiny, but I would think they could still walk...We have one that comes rather regularly and we've named him White Tail.  My sister was telling me that they were telling them to take down their hummingbird feeder at their cabin in Fish Lake.  What?  Apparently they were claiming it was a detriment to the ecology or something like that.  They also said they probably wouldn't be enforcing it...sigh.  Yet another illogical move on the part of government.

So, besides Hummingbirds, my other thought was regarding disappointment.  We've talked about voice several times on this blog, and how readers come to expect a certain voice from a writer.  I checked out a book the other day because of a blog I've read that I thought would be entertaining.  Instead it comes across to me as rather self serving and self centered.  Hmmm.  I guess blogs are different than books.  (You think?)  The way you write in a blog is not going to come across the same way as something written in a book.  Fortunately (I guess) for the writer of this book, it sold enough that apparently everyone else thought it was great, so it's not an issue for them.  However, I'm probably not going to finish it.  I have limited reading time as it is, why waste it on something that is disappointing?

Well, such is my rambling thoughts for the day.  Hope you have a great weekend and get lots of writing done on your day off!