I went back through the Marsh Hawk manuscript today and was relieved to find that I still like it.  I don't have that confidence gene.  I crave recognition but am suspicious of it when it arrives.

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Writing is a strange activity.  One does it alone but (complete my sentence).

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I've spent a fair amount of time today listening to Trombone Shorty.  Now there's a genius with the confidence gene.

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Hot and humid here.  Summer has arrived.  As have the first few raspberries in our back yard.

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It might be the case that I'll be reading in NYC next Spring when my "prize winning" book is released.  Holy crap!  It's been over 20 years since I last read in New York.  One of my sons-in-law opined that I should go into the venue with a retinue, dressed like a boxer.

Oy!

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