A Novel Creation www.WatersWords.com

  First Date First dates are usually awkward. At least for me. This week Mike and I recognize our “first date.” Our first date wasn’t awkward at all.  Mostly, because we didn’t realize we were on a date. Our high school reunion from George D. Chamberlain High School in Tampa, Florida was to be held Saturday, August 27, 2022. It should have been in 2021, but COVID brought those plans to a halt.  Long before I left Ohio, I planned a post reunion potluck picnic at the Waters’ lake house near Tampa for the Sunday afternoon after the main event. I knew it would be work, but I also knew there would be some friends attending the picnic who couldn’t attend the organized reunion event for one reason or another. I considered that a win. I posted the idea on our high school class page. The response was encouraging.  Mike, a man I knew as a neighbor and friend, lived right up the road from the lake house. He was in my graduating class and was a long-time friend of my late husban...

  Journey of the Pen I am in the throes of writing, revising, and editing multiple works. I am crafting book three of a series, editing a novel, and outlining blog posts for the next two months. Uh…make that three months. And... I am getting ready for a writing conference. I have two more novels drafted. Who knows if I’ll get to them before the conference? It’s a haul. Sounding busy? I am. But it could be worse. I kind of got into this tizzy…this barrage of half-written books in 2014. That was the year Tom died. My first novel, Breathing on Her Own , was released April 1 of that year. I had the second one, Libby's Cuppa Joe , ready. I was on a roll.  I started a third book in late September. I was still researching and developing character sketches for my main characters. I had a plot and a plan.  We were to leave Ohio for Florida November 1st. Tom would be driving the truck, pulling the camper, and I would follow in the car. We planned stops along the way.  I d...

  The Makings of a Rain Dance Supposedly, Native Americans thought they could persuade the heavens to rain on parched land by calling on the gods through music and dance.  Not a unique thought. Nearly every continent on the face of the earth boasts of rainmaking rituals in times past. The rituals, a message to some sort of god they couldn’t see, is actually, in my view, a testimony that even in the most primitive times, people knew there was a God. Because they couldn’t see Him, they fashioned an image of Him. God doesn’t cotton to that. (Sorry. My South slipped out there.) He said we’re not to worship “a graven image.” And you sure don’t want to be praying to one for rain. Or concocting some sort of dancing part to supposedly open the skies. Where Mike and I live, the keepers of the water locks have been letting a lot of water from our chain of lakes out, lowering the water table significantly. We understand. Some. They are anticipating the hurricane season when torrential ra...

  Living in a Small Town You may remember the John Mellencamp song “Small Town.” Or not. It was popular in the eighties. Mike and I live in a small town. And we love it. The traffic is manageable. The people are friendly. The atmosphere is relaxed. Laid back. We have great restaurants and everything we need in our little town.  Everything.  When Mike and I first renovated our kitchen, we had a minor issue with the faucet. We called a plumber. One of the men from the company happened to be in the neighborhood so he came over. He fixed the issue, which proved to be minor for a plumber. It took him ten or fifteen minutes. He didn’t charge us. NOT A DIME. We were amazed. He simply welcomed us to Inverness and left. Recently, following a storm, we needed someone to come in and do a cleanup for us as well as cut some limbs from a tree. We called a local company. They arrived on time, did everything we needed done and in two hours they left, leaving our yard looking great. Their...