Tag Archives: December

December Book News

Posted on by under Book News, Fiction Writing, Holidays, Leslie Budewitz, Montana Women Writers, writers, Writing Skills

 

 

LESLIE BUDEWITZ: As i write, the season’s first real snow is beginning to fall. We’ll all be a bit skittish on the roads in the morning, but in a few days, we’ll be driving like the winter folk we are. Cold days and colder nights are great for reading and writing, and I’m hard at work on two future books: the next Food Lovers’ Village Mystery, and something entirely different that I’m calling Blind Faith, and not just for the process of writing it!

Killing Thyme (final)I’ll be out and about in western Montana twice this weekend, and hope you’ll join me. Kalispell’s annual Holiday Art Stroll is this Friday, Dec 2, from 5-9 pm, and I’ll be signing books at Think Local: Exclusively Montana Made on Main Street. (And a bonus: my hunny, Don Beans, will be playing his guitar and singing!) Saturday, Dec 3, I’ll be a guest of the Mineral County Library in Superior at their Christmas Bazaar and Book Sale, speaking and signing books at 2 pm. (This event is in the elementary school, not the library.)

After that, I’m staying home to write. Thanks to all of you who have joined me on my writing journey this past year. Wishing you all the blessings of the season!

 

 

Busyness vs. Calm

Posted on by under Ann Minnett, Group theme posts

By Ann Minnett

I was driving down snow-covered Star Meadow Road Monday morning in a slight panic. I dug blindly in my bag for the list of Christmas gifts to buy and errands to complete in between yoga, a meeting at 11:30, dinner with a friend at 5:30 (we’re old), and finally another meeting at 6:30. Mustn’t forget to drop off my critique pages at Marie’s, I thought. Now where was that pen I stashed in the console…

I’m retired. We live near a resort town that currently looks like a tranquil Christmas card. How can I be this busy?

Photo courtesy of Mike Coleman

Star Meadow Road  – Photo courtesy of Mike Coleman

A huge bird—a golden eagle—flew over my car, filling the windshield and making me flinch. His flapping wings appeared jointed in five places each and nearly spanned the narrow road. He flew low and slowly in front of my moving car, hunting along Star Meadow Road the way I’ve seen eagles follow rivers. We traveled at 30 mph, swooping downhill for a mile or more until he banked to the right, and I lost him in snow-laden pines. The busyness of my day fell away in the beat of his wings, towing me in the silence.