Anne B. Walsh - Do you believe in magic?

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Important days
The sea-bride, part two
Sounds of silence
Of music and martyrs
Click, click, hiss


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Important days

I am too lazy to actually go and look, but I think it has been approximately a year since I got this website started, and this blog along with it. I may be very off, and if I am, then you, O readers, can enjoy a chuckle up your sleeves at my inability to remember dates. I'm always happy to provide you entertainment, even inadvertent.
A far more important date is coming up -- the tenth anniversary of the Dangerverse, by which I have said multiple times that I would have the main story completed.

The sea-bride, part two

As I said a few weeks ago, the continuation of the tale of Maeve and Richard Laverty was a story for another day...and that day is today! Yes, O readers, today is a first for Fiction Friday, as I look back to an earlier post and go on with the story of the courtship of Richard and Maeve. Only this time, the lady gets to speak for herself.
Will there be more of this same story after today's posting? Well, why don't you read to the end of what Maeve has to say, and then you tell me what you think.

Sounds of silence

This will not be a long blog post. I have very little to say at the moment that is not either depressive, whiny, or self-deprecating, and you, O readers, have no need to hear any of that from me. I am sure you get plenty of it from the insides of your very own minds. Or, if you don't, be grateful. It's less than fun to be your own best enemy.
Writing on Chapter 65 continues, when enough energy and a few free minutes coincide. In between times I'm just trying to keep up with the demands of life.

Of music and martyrs

Seem like an odd title for a blog post? Well, the church I attend, and in which I am active in the music ministry, is named for a third-century martyr. Ta-da! I will not reveal the name of said martyr, but we have an ongoing, mostly joking, feud over how to say it. Thus, I fictionalize the parish as "Our Lady of the Mispronunciation".
We had our parish feast day recently, and sang a hymn about our patron saint, for which I am both proud and embarrassed to say that I supplied new lyrics.

Click, click, hiss

And no, that is not what you hear when you scare a cat wearing tap shoes. Though I will have to remember that as a punchline for one of my signature really bad jokes. It is, in fact, part of a song from a Broadway musical of years gone by, which is about workers at a pajama factory who go on strike to get a seven and a half cent raise.
What's that you say? Making it up? Perish the thought. I would never do such a thing. Well, actually, I do it all the time. But on this occasion, it's gospel truth.

How do they find me?

Not only a quote from one of my favorite movies, the identity of which I shall reveal further down, but the title of my post for today is an honest question. How do you find me, O readers? What, or who, led you to the writing of Anne B. Walsh, and what is it that keeps you around through my strange and often infuriating twists and turns?
"They come here, they all come here. How do they find me?" So spake Max Bialystock, producer of guaranteed Broadway flops, right up until the one he intended to be.

Daughter of hope

No, for once, the title of this blog post does not refer to anything involving the Dangerverse, or even the Chronicles of Glenscar, in both of which I have used puns relying on the meanings of names. It is simply an indication that the narrator of the Fiction Friday post for today (yes, it's back!) is somehow important to her people.
How so? Well, today's little story is a Trycanta tale, and our storyteller is... but perhaps I should let her speak for herself, while I get back to the Dangerverse.


Having just Tweeted out a sentiment which is probably going to get me castigated the length and breadth of the Internet, I thought I would follow up, and perhaps clarify, here in a more expansive environment. Will this stop people from taking me to task and claiming I am a horrible person? Probably not, but a girl can hope.
Basically, my Tweet for today states that I cannot care about everything. Please note this does not mean that I don't care about anything! In fact, rather the opposite.

Learning experience

When I was growing up, my younger siblings and I used to love the VeggieTales videos. For anyone who is unaware, VeggieTales are computer-animated cartoons of talking vegetables with fun songs and a quirky sense of humor, which teach Christian lessons like kindness, friendship, and sharing. And that pirates don't do anything.
Whether it was about pirates, superheroes, or rubber-duck-loving kings, every VeggieTales show ended with a little song about what we learned today. Bob the Tomato hated that song, both because it would interrupt him while he was talking and because it's so very catchy that once you hear it, it Never.

In Sanity

Or rather, out of Sanity, since if Sanity were the name of a town, it is not one where I would spend much time. A lot of people have told me that they wish they could write like I can. I tell them that they would not want what comes along with it, since having a vivid and far-ranging imagination is very often more of a curse than a blessing.
Now I just have to decide in which state Sanity is located. Perhaps, as Calvin of "Calvin and Hobbes" once told his teacher, it's in the state of Denial?
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