A Letter from Dean Koontz

I've been blogging for over two years, and lately I've been doing some serious soul-searching about the value of working so hard.

Then today, I received an email from Dean Koontz about a post I wrote about him at Visionary Fiction Alliance, and it has energized me in a way I haven't been energized in a long time.

Dear Margaret,

My editor at Bantam, Tracy Devine, sent to me your lovely post at Visionary Fiction Alliance, and I'm asking her to forward this to you. I was quite touched by your words. After a long career as a novelist, I've learned that what anyone writes about my work, good or bad, will only occasionally, very occasionally, be written with true insight regarding my intentions. For so many years, I have
denied being a horror novelist, never thought I was, and struggled to prevent earlier publishers from putting that word on my books. You got to the heart of what I try to give readers when you mentioned hope and healing, and spoke of seeking to "help readers see the world in a new light and recognize dimensions of reality they commonly ignore."

If you will provide my editor with a mailing address, I would like to send you
two inscribed books that are close to my heart.

Best wishes,

Dean Koontz

Oh my, talk about synchronicity!

Thank you, Dean Koontz, for taking the time to inspire a fellow writer to not give up. Ever.

I'm back.

Journal Treasures/Standing in the Doorway

lizsmith

The door stands open, and as I peek through it, I marvel that such a life does indeed exist.

I will not cross the threshold, because if I do, all I care about and those I love will be lost to me forever.

With  my hand on the door frame, I feel no shame in enjoying and partaking from a distance.  As long as I'm not observed, I'm safe to enter with my mind.

The group sits comfortably in a circle and doesn't see me because the members are entranced by each other and their conversation.   They aren't talking about the weather.  They aren't politely nodding as someone talks about his or her aches and pains or gifted children.

No, they're delving into the unknown, exploring each others' minds for new and fresh ideas.  They're going beyond the superficial into what makes each of them special, human--a miracle.

Their minds don't seem connected to their bodies.  Time stands still.  They are not aware of their surroundings. They are in the paradise of discovering mind.

They love one another, but not in a physical way.  They connect without touching.  They are friends of another realm.  They like each other and don't even care who drives home in the Porsche.



Oh, how I wish to step into that room and join them, but I turn away on time, to do what is required of me in this life I lead and this path I'm on.

###



AlicePopkorn

I wrote this January 3, 2000, ten years and seven months before I started to blog.

The connections I've made blogging, come close to how I describe the relationship melded between the members of this hypothetical group beyond the open door.

I think I may have found the perfect compromise.  

Blogging, Love It, Hate It

Sometimes I love blogging. Sometimes I hate it.

Today I hate it.

I’d rather be pulling weeds. I’d rather be cleaning house. I need to get my rear off the chair and get some exercise. This once fine-tuned body is turning into jelly.

How can I speed this writing process up so it won’t take up so much of my time?

I have a life after all.

My husband needs me. My kids need me. My friends need me. I’m noticing layers of dust on my furniture. My yard needs tending.

By Laughing Squid

Okay, so I enjoy discovering all the new (and returning) visitors to my blog. By using my handy-dandy StatCounter, I know exactly how many “hits” my site receives, how long my visitors stay, and from where they come. I’m learning about places I’d never heard of before. Today, for instance, I had visitors from Belo Horizonte, Minas Gerais, Brazil; Seria, Brunei Darussalam; Pasig, Pampanga, Philippines; Round Lake, Illinois; and Forest Hills, New York, to name just a few.

I also love reading the comments, though there are never enough. GIVE ME MORE!


Will Lion

So sometimes (okay lots of times) all the work seems worth it. But…

I run out of things to talk about.

My brain needs a rest.

My fingernails are wearing down.

My novels need revising.

Yet here I sit, pumping out another post.

Sometimes I hate blogging. Sometimes I love it.

(Photo Credit:  I'm blogging this by Michael Heilemann)