Dorien Grey's Blog (5)

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I swear I don't know where these things come from! Really, I don't. But I was thinking this morning about my constant running around trying to find new readers for my books--which I always have found somewhat embarrassing--"unseemly," as they say used to say in gentler times. It's very similar to those people who…

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I wish I spoke well...and I'm not referring to the residual effects of tongue cancer on my ability to speak clearly enough so that other people can always understand me. I mean I wish I were able to put my thoughts together quickly enough to enable me to instantly say what I wanted to say, rather than saying something…

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I often feel like a kid with a curbside lemonade stand, hoping that someone will stop by. Best lemonade in town. Yessiree. But hope alone doesn't make cars pull over, or any passersby slow down. So I run around putting up signs all over the neighborhood. And I wave wildly as cars zip past. And nothing.



Such is the writer’s life…at least, this writer’s life.



And I have to preface all this by expressing my sincere gratitude to you for being here. My—and every writer I know… Continue

I suspect that most people, if they think of writers and writing at all, have a vague mental image of Henry David Thoreau sitting with a quill pen at a quaint antique writing desk in an idyllic cabin, pausing every few seconds to look out over the calm waters of Walden Pond, in which are mirrored glorious red-and-gold images of autumn trees. If they take the image a bit farther, they might picture him walking down a dirt country lane in a gentle shower of falling leaves to a village post office… Continue