Which philosophy do you ascribe to?
A best-seller is the gilded tomb of a mediocre talent.
Logan Pearsall Smith
Sir, no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.
Surely all authors must do this, right? I know I do. Otherwise, where would be the joy in doing it?
“I write what I would like to read–what I think other women would like to read. If what I write makes a woman in the Canadian Mountains cry and she writes and tells me about it, especially if she says, “I read it to Tom when he came in from work and he cried, too,” I feel I have succeeded.”
“Pulls you in and keeps you anchored. The characters each have their own individual personality.”
“Intriguing enough to make you want to know more”
“The world Deb creates is full of deep imagery that makes you wonder where she will take you at each new turn in the plot”
“I enjoyed the book and look forward to seing what follows for Deb.”
To read the whole review, click here to go to my Goodreads page.
Yes, I twaddled quite a bit when I first started writing, and still do the same today sometimes. But better to twaddle than not to twaddle at all.
Looking back, I imagine I was always writing. Twaddle it was, too. But better far to write twaddle or anything, anything, than nothing at all.
In case you want to follow Mrs. Cornelius’s advice from last week and serve a “nice boiled custard” with your Apple Island, here’s one of her custard “receipts.”
Put a quart of milk into a tin pail or a pitcher that holds two quarts; set it into a kettle of hot water. Tin is better than earthen, because it heats so much quicker.
Put in a few sticks of cinnamon, or three peach leaves. When the milk foams up as if nearly boiling, stir in six eggs which have been beaten, and two spoonfuls of white sugar; stir it every instant, until it appears to thicken a little. Then take out the pail, and pour the custard immediately into a cold pitcher, because the heat of the pail will cook the part of the custard that touches it, too much, so that it will curdle.
This is a very easy way of making custard, and none can be better. But in order to have them good, you must attend to nothing else until they are finished. You may make them as rich as you choose. A pint of milk, a pint of cream, and eight eggs will make them rich enough for any epicure. So, on the other hand, they are very good with three or four eggs only to a quart of milk, and no cream.
Hopefully Georg Christoph Lichtenberg was simply being satirical below. If not, I believe he is entirely wrong. You can change people’s perspectives by what you write, if you do it right.
A book is a mirror; if an ass peers into it, you can’t expect an apostle to peer out.
I’ve compiled some of my favorite short stories that I’ve written over the years into two volumes that are now available on Amazon.com. If suspense novels aren’t your thing, I hope you will check these out instead.
BAREFOOT ON BLUEBERRY ISLAND: Looking for peace in the laugh of a loon
THE NEST: A mother and son negotiate loss
NEW MOON: It’s hard to say goodbye, unless he makes it easy for you.
You can find all my books at:
Short, sweet, not so sweet, or not too short—how do you like your short stories? A collection of odds and ends.
CUTTING EDGE: The more things change, the more they stay the same ROASTED: Too much caffeine can make a reporter a little suspicious SANTA CLAWS: Cats believe in Christmas, too CANOE TRIP DIARY: Who wouldn’t want to get back to nature? HOW TO START A BUSINESS: How to succeed without really dying MAGIC HANDS: A mini-fairy tale for grownups