How in the world do white horses enter into this blog? Well, white horses are rare, like shooting stars. The next time you see one, make a wish. Wishing, dreaming, pursuing is the first step toward achieving your heart's desire.
What will you find on these pages? Talk about life. I'm “The Scout,” as in the covered wagon days, when a rider went out to search the terrain for danger, or for the best water, or the safest camping place.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
A Little Voice Spoke to Me This Morning
"Stop being such asmuck," the voice said. "PutSong of Africa, your novel's excerpt, out there and let the chips fall where they may." (Actually, the voice was nicer than that.)
I want this to be as though you are in a bookstore:
You are attracted to a book titledSong of Africa. (By me, Jewell D or Joyce Davis, of those, I haven't decided who I will be yet.)
You pull Song of Africa from the shelf,
go to the coffee counter, order a good strong brew, fix it to your liking, and sit down and read the first 37 pages.
Oh, you say, "I forgot to drink my coffee. I was so engrossed in what happened to the two Saras, their lovers, to Patrice, and to that infamous painting,’ The Girl on The Pier,’ that I forgot to drink it.”
You gulp down the now cold coffee, go to the checkout, plunk down your credit card, and after purchasing Song of Africa, you tell the clerk:
"Order more of these. This book will sell like hotcakes."