Fragments From Floyd

I think "finding home" may be part of the essential work of becoming fully realized human beings as well. Geography is only part of it -- but one I am working on right now, with one foot firmly planted in the NC mountains, and one firmly planted in the northwest Florida piney woods. Beginning to feel a little betwixt and between.

Home is often not a matter merely of place. Often it's the smile that walks through the door every evening, a child's sticky kiss, or the devotion between a particular dog and its master. It's textures and smells, fears and memories. This aspect of home, combined with a sure sense of place, is surely almost heaven on earth.

Gather what's inside, tell a tale, and above all, write for the self and not the reader.

You write often about hows and whys of writing. But why fritter the time when you already have the talent and the need? When you tell your small simple tales of life at home, the words paint pictures, and those pictures are a wonder to behold. I yearn, you see, to read a published work by my favorite folk writer.

I don't think there's much frittering going on here, but I am firmly in agreement about the publication-to-come. All we need, ain't this right Fred? is the publisher. Got any?