#1 NYT bestselling author Linda Lael Miller
Big Day!

My beloved editor, Joan Marlow Golan, she of the keen insights and gentle diplomacy, is arriving today for a short visit. We’ll be staying out at the lake house, and the sky is dark and low-bellied, which means we might be in for a spectacular light show of a storm tonight!

Glancing out my window, I see our wild turkeys foraging along the fence line. And last night, returning from an outing (yes, it was the casino, no, I didn’t win. It was a bloodbath, a massacre, Antietam and Gettysburg rolled into one), cousin Mary Ann, her husband, Larry, and I were treated to a visit from a doe with two young fawns in tow. We waited politely in the driveway until they’d skampered to safety, of course. In Arizona, Mary Ann and I once sat in the truck for some 20 minutes, watching mama and papa quails herding their sizable flock of chicks to one side. They are so cute, with those little topknots–the chicks were no taller than an inch or so, and they kept breaking off from the herd. Mama and Papa and a couple of aunts and uncles had to ride swing, as they say in the cattle biz.

My cold is almost gone. The stitches in my mouth come out on Wednesday, to be replaced with new ones on Thursday. Alas. I intend to enjoy my time with Joan, and think about tomorrow–well–tomorrow.

I’ll blog from the lake in the morning. Thursday, too. Friday? Depends on how good the pain killers are. :)

The Plague and I

I promised not to complain again, but I need to whine. I’m sick, darn it.

It’s minor. Just a common cold. It’s left me with just enough energy to sit in this chair, at my computer, and work on my current story. Being a creative type, I could easily turn this bug into an excuse to lie about in bed and watch mindless TV–and most of it is mindless–or I can buck up and write a chapter. It’s all about choices.

My brilliant daughter, a screenwriter on the verge of selling, and I spoke yesterday about that bane of any artist’s existence: Resistance. We’re both fans of Steven Pressfield’s book, “War of Art”. According to Pressfield, the moment a writer turns from amateur to pro is NOT when they make that first big sale, but when they making writing a real priority that must come before everything else. The pages get down–THEN you can go to Wal-mart, or the casino, or play around with a hobby. (I’m talking to myself, here, as well as to any of you who may be struggling in this area.)

Without a doubt, the most dedicated, hardworking writer I know is Nora Roberts. She gets those pages down, come hell or high water. And it sure is working for her, isn’t it???

Hmmmm……

Texas was the most active gunfighting state, with some 160 shoot-outs from the 1850’s through the 1890’s.

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