Well, my husband and I are traveling in the beautiful state of Oregon. Actually, this summer we're making our transition to Oregon to retire here. Back home for me where I was raised. Back to blackberry picking, long walks in the woods, swims in the rivers and creeks. Back to a time when dreams were big and my adult life lay ahead of me. Back to a place where most of my book settings take place, because it's what I know.
Thinking of my childhood has kick-started the creative part of my brain flowing with titles. They just pop into my head, like so many thoughts when I'm in the car watching the treed mountainside whizz by. Relaxing can do that for you. Help the creative juices flow like a stream hidden in the meadows.
On one stint over the mountain passes, we saw the beginnings of a forest fire. Looked as though it started within a row of stores. I watched in awe as the wind whipped the fire, which shook the trees, roaring to its peaks. The heat, even with our air conditioner, blasted with intensity. My stomach lurched in fear. And I got this phrase: How great is the fire that roars up the trees. That could be a title.
Another title was spoken to me when a friend was talking about hurts in life. She said, "We're all just broken birdies."
Most of us are, but it is what we do with our Broken Birdies that counts.
Hope anyone reading this will take heart and if you think you want to write. Write! Write your feelings when you're sad, mad, glad, and you'll be amazed how much clearer you'll see things.
Until another time.