October

I've got a book here that my Grandpa Peek wrote and one my brother Chuck wrote and neither of them are in either of those.

I've decided I'm going to write my own book. I don't mean novel or something about the Goddesses or something else about astrology. I mean my own book. All the stories I've been told since I was a kid and all the ones I've told myself -- and the ones I've told other people.

I'm going to call it "Minds me of the time..."

Because that's how Mom used to start telling some half-told story she'd stop telling when she noticed I was actually listening. It was how Grandma Hall used to start telling her somethings too.

So that's what it's going to be about.

But it's not going to happen until 31 days hence. (See, I'm allowed to do that -- I'm allowed to use words like hence. If I want to.)

Because in 31 more days, it will be November 1. And it will be NaNoWriMo time. http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Last year, The Songlines of Kenden Rush, interrupted my nonfiction astrology-based book I was writing and then it didn't finish itself. I lost interest or let my characters run away into side lines or something. I stopped short and didn't keep writing until they untangled themselves and came to their senses.

But this year, I don't hardly see how I won't finish. The words are wanting to tumble all over themselves now. There are all these pictures. Flashes of this person and that place and a certain slant of light and specific whine of the wind.

Ok. It'll be there, come November.

In the meantime, there's winter finding to do. Oh, winter will find itself, but getting ready for winter is going to keep us busy. And away from all those old stories -- until November comes.