A Vase and A Ramble

This vase lives on the bridge in my small town. It’s a painting of the old train station. That old train was the difference between a town eeking out it’s own survival and a town that was able to thrive through the income derived from shipping out the pottery and coal produced here. We need the contemporary equivalent of a “means to sell our ware”. Most of the potteries have closed down, the one or two left are struggling.

The first of my articles came out in Our Town this week, two of them made the front page. The vase articles are on the front page of the other paper, and Thursday I had an offer from another paper. This should make me happy, it’s paid writing work despite the fact that my background isn’t in journalism. It’s not that I’m unhappy, any kind of validation regarding whether my writing is marketable or not is always welcome. The tear sheets are invaluable, the people that read the articles and start recognizing my name – very important. But, I’m mourning the loss of time I usually use on one of the novels. One of them languishing in a drawer, waiting to get sent out, one that needs editing, two with a fledling start, the characters bound and gagged so they won’t harrass me while I write for money for awhile. I’m reminded again, to be careful what I wish for….