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I will listen to a thought giant like Daniel Schmachtenberger or Eric Weinstein, and I realize how little I know.… Read More »My theory of organizations and groups

I fell in love with books at a young age. I remember getting introduced to books before going to school… Read More »Fact or Fiction?

You feel the nervous sweat. Your voice quivers along with your hands. Your mind goes as blank as it did… Read More »Querying is like looking for a job

I suppose this is a question that is something every budding writer asks. I assume they ask anyway. It seems to be a little like why paint, or garden or any other drive. The difference is that with a garden you can sit back and look at your work and enjoy. Or have guests come and admire your work.

Painting is the same. There it is, the art, on the wall for all to see.

In an earlier post, I wrote about the biggest thing I learned from my dad. It was not what most people would have supposed. I might not have even guessed it until after he passed away which is too bad. There is a Mike and the Mechanics song from way back that talked about that.

Today I want to focus on what I learned from my mom.

The spring when I was thirteen, I was moving up a level in baseball. I was going from the iconic Little League to the lesser-known Senior Little League. This was the next level for those players who want to continue the sport through the early teen years. Of course, that also meant fewer, more serious players. These were the players who loved the game beyond just pleasing their parents.