After tending a broken heart for a full month, I’m starting to get back in the writer’s groove. I only saw to the barest essentials for a while and believe me being absent from work isn’t a good thing. You should see my inbox! I’m shoveling out a little each day. For those of you who left comments of sympathy for me here and there, thank you from the bottom of my heart. They were much appreciated. If you’re here for the first time and wonder what I’m talking about, my dog passed away at home. She was 14 1/2 years old. Sad business that. One day I’ll write about her. Can’t do that just yet without making myself cry. What an exceptional little person she was. Starting this Sunday, I’ll be blogging every day as before.
For now… it’s my blog day at Romance Books ‘4’ Us. I’m talking about writing large and small. Come see.
http://romancebooks4us.blogspot.com/2014/09/writing-large-small-by-rose-anderson.html
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For 100 days, I’ll post something from my chosen topic: Clichés.
There are 52 entries to come.
Here’s a cliché for today:
Back in the saddle
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I’m participating in The Romance Reviews‘ month-long Fall into Love event. Lots of authors and industry people are involved and there are hundreds of prizes. The details are up on my satellite blog as well as the snippet you’d need to play along in my part of their contest.
http://calliopeswritingtablet.blogspot.com/
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Love Waits in Unexpected Places – Scorching Samplings of Unusual Love Stories
Find my novels wherever books are sold.
Sample my love stories for free!
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/333971
To use another cliche: you’re a trouper. Gene Autry’s rendition of Back In The Saddle Again was the best. Welcome back, Rose.
Thanks, Mike. It’s been a rough time but I’ve booked myself to the roof to snap me out of the doldrums. We’ll see how that goes!
Sorry about your dog. A dog is a member of the family.
I still miss my dog who died a horrible death after eating a poisoned rat when I was six years old. He crawled under the house to hide. He snapped at me and I left to call my dad. Shortly the dog died. I remember him best when I was four years old. He went everywhere I went. If I went outside my mother knew where I was. I was always with the dog. He would ride in my little red wagon. He would keep me from getting lost if I went into the wheat field with grain taller than I was.
Thanks, Ray. Yes they are. I’m sorry you lost your playmate that way.