66

Today is my 66^th birthday and this is my 63^rd blog post. Too bad I didn’t count ahead and do three more posts during the last year so today could have been #66 on my 66^th.

Anyway, I’ve just elbowed my way up to the Social Security trough, hopefully to keep some of on my children’s payroll taxes in the family for a long time. Although, it’s possible that the taboo platter of thick-sliced bacon I cooked for my celebratory breakfast might shorten my monthly drain on the SS bank account. Before the bacon grease congeals my blood to slurry, here’s a few random birthday reflections.

Today, while Nita keeps grandson Jackson next door, I’m alone and writing this blog post and Chapter 2 of the final Captain McBee Civil War novel. I’m introducing Faith, the lady lead in all three books, to new readers by writing a steamy bit in which she reflects on her last night on a mountain trail wrapped in a blanket with the good captain.

The chapter is also an experiment to see if a 66-year-old grandpa in 2015 can put together the right string of words to fog up his own eyeglasses while jumping into the head of a 29-year old woman who grew up in a tightly constrained Victorian southern culture. We’ll see.

Two weeks ago I went to a Civil War reenactment on the Arkansas-Missouri border, commemorating the early war battle of Pea Ridge. The photo below was taken as we started the Saturday battle for the paying spectators. Given the recent controversies surrounding the venerable and abused old Confederate battle flag, we all figured those crossing jet contrails were intentional, someone’s editorial statement, appearing as if from one of the rebellious gods up in the blue sky.

Last Saturday night I was extremely flattered to be among the twelve invited regional authors who were the center of attention at our local Friends of the Library fund-raising event. It’s the Evening With the Authors garden party. Each author has his/her own table and hostess and receives a stream of paying guests who stop by to chat about the author’s books and have copies signed. Of course, all the authors’ books are laid out on a table for sale and wine and tasty nibbles and bits are served.

Being one of the authors, in my case being the local author in the bunch, was gratifying on two levels. First, I was honored to be recognized and greeted as a competent novelist in a select group of writers, and not just “my friend Phil.”

Second, it was professionally validating as a novelist to see my books displayed  on the Barnes and Nobles table along with the books of all those authors who have agents and publishing houses. And a fair number of my three Civil War novels sold, which is always nice.

Finally, here’s another old photograph. This one is my great great grandmother Lavenia McFarland. She was born in Kentucky and married there in 1870 near where the climatic action in Redeeming Honor takes place.

I think she must have been a beautiful young woman. It pains me now to realize that I had her forgotten photo in a file during those weeks when I was looking for a period image of a pretty woman of the 1860’s to put on the cover of Tangled Honor, the first McBee novel. I had it all the time. I may find a way to work it onto the cover of the last McBee novel. We’ll see.

Book sales on Amazon for Redeeming Honor are trickling along. A $2.99 Kindle e-book download would make fine lunchtime reading and be cheaper and better for you than a Whataburger. Just food for thought. Sorry, I know I promised not to use this blog for any more shameless self-promotion. But it’s my birthday, what can I say.

Have a good week.