The Face on Miss Fanny's Wall is off, hopefully to find a home, but if not, I'll keep trying. I like the premise of the story, especially since it was inspired by a real place, but it may need more than I've given it to be accepted for publication. If I have to gut it and start over, I will.
Meanwhile, my research for the western novel is stalled. Maybe I am using that as an excuse not to go beyond the first chapter. To my credit, I will say that I am thinking about it. Writing before one thinks, as in speaking before one thinks, can be the wrong thing to do! I keep hoping to hear from some of the emails and phone calls I've made about my grandmother's teaching stint on that ranch, but I have a feeling the information is gone forever.
The idea for a new short story is floating around, courtesy of a high school friend with whom I recently reconnected. She told me about the family home she lived in, the first two-story house in our hometown, which was eventually moved to a quieter location. Apparently it began as a funeral parlor where people were "laid out" upstairs. Folks filled her child's mind with ghost stories, and she's related some strange happenings which occurred and which she witnessed. Being the kind of person she is, she'd never tell me about them if they hadn't really happened.
Her loveliest memories, however, involve waking at night to watch the train go by and wondering where the passengers were headed, and also exploring behind her home all the land running down to the Concho River. Growing up in a circumscribed neighborhood as I did, I quite envy her.
Unfortunately, the house (as were so many wonderful historical structures in town) was demolished some years ago.
I'm not sure exactly what I want to write, but the opening lines came to me on waking this morning.
When you are young, you crave all that is new. At some point you come to understand that old is often better. Houses are like that. The house where I grew up is a perfect example.
At this point, I'm not sure where I'm going with this story, but I'm going somewhere. . .sometime.