Blue Mountain Lake

Looking at the photo keeps me calm. It was taken from the snack bar (cafe) at the Adirondack Museum in Blue Mountain Lake. The museum was informative, interesting, novel, challenging: everything a museum should be. And the weather just couldn't be beat.

I am in one of those horrible periods of self-doubt, which is to say doubting myself as a writer and wondering if I am ever going to get any of these damn books published. In a few weeks I'll be at a writer's conference where I can schmooze (which I do badly) with some agents and editors. Maybe something will happen there. I need to perfect my pitches and redo (for the umteenth time) the beginning of World of Mirrors, which is starting to nag me with the unsettling feeling that maybe the beginning could be just a little better. Once I complete Festival Madness, it will go on the shelf for a few month in order that I get some distance. During that period I want to write 3 short stories and redo my web site. Maybe I will set my hair on fire, too. Maybe not.

As Kurt Vonnegut says, so it goes. And goes and goes and goes.

With grave doubts,

Grapeshot