Writers are crazy.  Or maybe we are just slightly off-balanced.  It could be that we are just obsessed with books and the written word.  Writing is a lonely job that only one person can do – at least until the editing phase.  We place ourselves into our own little world and don’t come out until the job is done, the story is told.

I know that writers are crazy because where else can you make up lies and then sell them to your neighbors?  (I’m talking about fiction of course, hopefully non-fiction is not based on lies.)

My daughter gave me this pillow for my birthday, probably to warn the world about my obsession, or maybe because she believes in me and my story-telling.  Either way, it fits nicely in the recliner where I write and reminds me of my purpose in life.

I’ve been working diligently on the sequel to Secrets of Sandhill Island that I call Stones of Sandhill Island.  It involves some of the same characters from the original book and some new ones.  Billie Stone is a jazz singer who now sings on the weekends at Le Chez restaurant.  She is delicate and damaged emotionally since the death of her family, but she is not useless.  Her mother with Parkinson’s depends upon her daily as do the patrons of the restaurant where she sings the blues of the famous Billie Holiday, her name sake.  But she has more courage than she knows when she pulls Neil from his depression over a failed marriage, shows Carol she has the courage to stand up to the world, and even takes in a stray dog with a litter of puppies.  Billie is not useless, just delicate and growing stronger by the day. Joe Franks will find her a formidable enemy when he tries to blame her for the accident he caused that took her family.

Stones of Sandhill Island will hopefully be out this year.  I hope you enjoy it, and be careful, I might put you in the book and kill you.  Writers are crazy.