My Western Sky

On January 26, 2013, I whispered my lifelong dream into the blogosphere: I am going to start writing a book.   I have been working on this dream for two years. And I can't believe I'm about to type these words: I can see the finish line.  Y'all, I can actually SEE it... THE BOOK IS ALMOST WRITTEN.  HOLY. $*&%. Sorry. I needed that moment. (I know my Mom is reading this, so I will let you use your imagination about what those symbols mean). I hope to be "finished" with the book by March. Then I will find some hard-core critique partners and start the query process for an agent. I guarantee that the day I finish my book you will all know about it. I will go ahead and apologize in advance for the gratuitous postings via social media on that day. It's not everyday that I  can say, "Oh, you know, I just finished WRITING MY BOOK." So--sorry/not sorry about that. I have written many posts about this process. I have not done this to sa

During one of the many gut-wrenching scenes in Selma , Dr. King comforts a grieving grandfather whose grandson has just been murdered by the hands of white police officers. Dr. King says, "I have no words." This is a powerful statement coming from a man whose legacy hinges on words--words that we read, recite, and remember for their beauty, their brilliance, their boldness. That's how I feel after watching Selma : I have no words. I braced myself for this movie. I knew it was going to be hard to watch. I brought my Kleenex. But as I sat in that dark theater today, I cried. I cringed. I clapped. When it was over, the entire theater clapped--people of all races. We couldn't help ourselves. Selma ripped my heart out, but it left me hanging on to hope. Hope that we can do better. It will take me a while to process this movie--to turn this swirl of emotion and thought into words, but what I can find are the words to tell you --to implore you--to go see this m