Book Signing At The 'Ol Centennial

As I sit here behind the table piled high with stacks of fresh-smelling copies of my books, sipping coffee as I look out the library window at a cold, snowy December day, I think to myself what a wise choice it was...that fateful day  so long ago when I decided to become a writer! I mean, let's face it, on a frigid day like this, I could be stuck outside chopping wood, getting the horse-drawn sled un-stuck from the ice, hacking miserably away at snow-weighted branches and icicles to clear a path to the barn to feed demanding sheep, kicking goats and a cow that won't shut up. But then, some library patron's voice suddenly snaps me back to reality; I shake my head, look up at the person standing in front of my table, smile and hold my pen steady as I inscribe a beloved one's name permanently into the pages of one of my books. I shake my head and laugh. Being an author is merely one of the many things that add spice and variety to my life. All that other stuff...the wood...the animals...that bit about the hacking, straining and fighting against powers of nature that seem to take extra pleasure in making you slog through your work just that much harder...Well, HECK! I do that anyway!