I asked a recipient of the first novel if he “had read any good books lately” … knowing he had a copy. With a straight face he said … “No, not really!” but then added that he’d only read six or seven pages. Alas the slings and thrashings of outrageous fortune!

This week is the first 2011 meeting of the Riverside Writers Group, which I joined late last year. Hopefully it will be a worthwhile endeavor. I had initially decided to get five to six pages of Sooley Base © ready for review, but have decided I’m not ready enough for even pre-prime time. I’m still brainstorming how to sequence bits and pieces of the story. I may just take a flyer to the meeting, with pull off tabs of my e-mail address to see if I can interest any other members to read and critique my first book. That shiny object that other blogger mentioned in her blog really does pose a continuing distraction.

Have been observing, and getting distracted by those shiny objects. Donated blood at the gym the other night; American Blood Services did the collection for vampires. They actually seemed more competent, and had more innovative doodads than the American Red Cross. Perhaps they have a better vampire in charge. At the gym my weight has been holding steady, though I’m not too serious at serious calorie burning. I’m more into muscle toning and working to be more flexible. Our diet hasn’t changed much – I say this because I’m the chief cook, bottle washer, and grocer.

Not much progress on the second novel, mainly those distractions. I’ve even been toying with the concept and rough ideas for a fifth book. But, my overarching distraction has been my infection with the genealogy bug, bacillus familius. I’ve been calling, e-mailing and recalling data on families long past pushing up daisies, and my former sister-in-law even suggested I write about their family. Like many families it features stories of a bizarre nature – thieves, murderers, boot leggers, gamblers, owners of brothels … all the things of the Old West about which numerous authors already write.

Anyhow, the data is making its way into a form appropriately termed a Family Group Sheet (FGS). Caught between CA, VA, and AZ are bits and pieces of how was related to whom, had whom, begatting and bequeathing in all sorts of strange and perverse ways. Some of the bits and pieces get down to what part of which town someone lived in, what color was their hairs, did they have kids, and on and on. I find it fascinating, and much like a detective’s work, trying to rationalize a choice for how to spell that person’s name, and figure which of the varying records to believe and bet the farm on.

Well I thought you needed to know how things were going, so there it is … Oh, look, a pretty light!