There's a story about Henry Fonda.

Late '40s, I think, Henry's working in New York, Broadway show. His wife
passes away, but he still keeps showing up for work every day.

When asked about it, he said that, at least for those few hours of the day,
he knew what it was that he was supposed to be doing.

I don't want to talk about the fact that people called him a narcissist for
it. Think about that for a second. You're interested in your work, dedicated
to it.

And people call you names for it. Usually, I'd wonder what it was that someone
wanted from me, that they'd call me names like that.

Set that aside though. The thing for our conversation here is that, even as
Hurricane Harvey is working on the second half of what looks to be more than
fifty inches of rain dropped in my little neck of the woods, I've got some
time on my hands.

Enough so that I've been able to kick myself into gear a little on this side
of my life. The story side.

Well, ok, not the story side. The story writing side's been going well,
actually. It's the publication side, and this whole blogging thing, that have
dropped to the back of the queue recently.

Well, at least for the past couple days, I've had a chance to catch up with
it. The result is that my second book in the Open Wounds series is now up
and available at all the standard places.

I keep going like this, and I might even figure out how to put up a link page
for the books...