Why were we here?

This time of year is always difficult for me, although I love the weather we generally have here in the San Francisco Bay Area. Mornings … always chilly; afternoons … warm and sunny; evenings filled with golden light. It really is magical.

Cobwebs on the flimsy birdhouses outside mean, it’s time to bring them inside

For some reason, many of the stories I’ve written over the many, many years have been set in autumn: So say the Winos, The Graduation Present, and even Flipka.

Pretty soon Margaritas won’t sound so tempting! Although my husband will drink them at any time of the year.
Untitled watercolor by Connemoira, circa 1986

The other day I found a watercolor done by my friend Connemoira many, many years ago. It shows a woman peeping out from what appears to be a tattered curtain, her eyes reflecting what could be a bomb blast. When we were teens we knew for certain that all wars would end during our lifetimes. They just had to, otherwise why else were we here?

Untitled oil pastel by Connemoira. I would call it Feather Bird.

Toward the end of her life, Connemoira’s work became deeply disturbing, as though what she viewed through that tattered curtain became too much to witness. But I promised her that I would “protect my novel” and so, after some revisions to the Oncle Boob story, I am ready for an editor. Do you have any recommendations? Synopsis here.

15 thoughts on “Why were we here?

  1. Publishing is a very tricky business. I tried agents in New York many years back. No dice.
    I now think that self-publishing on Amazon is probably the right choice now… Getting my stuff together with that idea in mind…

    1. I have no problem with self-publishing but I also know I need an editor! I made some mistakes the first time around and I don’t want to make them this time as it will probably be my last go round.

  2. Hi Jan, I used Esther Chilton as my editor for both my adult novels. I was very happy with her advice and assistance. She has a wordpress blog under that name. I am sorry about your friend’s disillusionment. She is/was a good artist.

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