Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Earthquake at Lake Gaston

The earthquake was really scary. I was on the computer. At first it sounded like the rumble of a heater, but I have electric and no heat on this time of year. I also thought of gas lines blowing up but there are no gas lines out here. No dishwasher was going or washer or dryer. I immediately went to the doorway, the strongest spot in the house, not knowing if that made a difference in a double-wide. The ENTIRE house rumbled and shook! The girls ran under the bed before it even started. I knew it was not a cyclone because it was bright and sunny outside. I thought maybe a great wind but the trees stood perfectly still. Whew! It lasted probably a few minutes. It seemed longer of course. Scary.

When it was over, it was over. Peace and tranquility stood outside my door. The forest was as lovely as usual. Nothing was amiss here along Lake Gaston. But one item had fallen from the bookshelves in the library. H-m-m. It was real.

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

A Writer's Vacation

Writer’s Market sent out an email asking what writer’s do for a vacation. I’m sure he will get a variety of answers. Mine is to do research, especially in reference to a particular manuscript I’m working on or plan to do in the near future.

A few months ago I was on Bald Head Island with my girlfriends, the Broad Strokes. We’re all artists and close friends, who planned this long, 5-day Thursday through Monday "weekend" for months. A week didn’t go past us all winter when we didn’t talk about it. What we were going to do, what foods we would bring and who was going to cook which meals and when, were discussed. Clothes. Bathing suits. Evening entertainments. People we would be meeting. Howling at the moon. Beach walks and golf cart rides. We had our time fully packed, no time would be wasted. Every moment counted. Our female bonding would strengthen.

Ten days before we were to leave, I received a notice about a Landmarks Conference of the Revolutionary War being held Thursday through Saturday in Walterboro, South Carolina relating to my guy, Major Thomas Fraser. It included where he walked, rode, and fought. Yikes! What a dilemma.

I pleaded with my girlfriends to not be angry with me. I HAD to go. I’m a writer. I HAD to be there, to see Major Fraser charging down the dirt road in battle. I HAD to hear the whinny of the horses, the clanging of the swords clashing against each other in life claiming battle.

Because they are true friends, they released me for Friday and Saturday; sent me on my way to do what I HAD to do. A writer’s vacation.