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I never believe any of my work is good enough. I want to write the perfect story and never finish one. I'm not even sure I learn how to have better endings, because, well I spend so much effort polishing unfinished stories that I never really complete one...
To all my American friends, I'm wishing you much joy in celebrating Thanksgiving day.
Fifty years ago, not quite to the day, the Edmund Fitzgerald went down. This, when it is posted is my attempt at a bit of ballad to commemorate the actions of Captain J. B. Cooper.
I have a great favor to ask of anyone who might have a good image of the Arthur M Anderson that I could use as a cover for this please?
I've opened a new pen-name of Tori T. Jones I don't know how soon the story will post but I just submitted the first chapter to the moderators. This will be my attempt at this year's NaNoWriMo challenge. I do hope you enjoy it.
Every day I learn how coddled and small my life has been. What a coward I've let myself be and that I honestly continue to be.
Today's example for my historical hobby is Andrée de Jongh
Different than the White Mouse, She too along with Mavis Bates gives me cause to rue my lack of effort. I doubt at this late date in my life I'll scrape up the courage to do anything meaningful, I won't even scrape up the courage to do anything but die slowly unmourned and rightfully lost to history, unlike the women I just mentioned.
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