puplucyblue is the runaway writer
The runaway writer, making every day an adventure.
I can't believe it's almost over. I knew that 2019 was going to be a good one, but I had no idea it would go out with such a bang. Y'all. Walking The Wrong Way Home has sold over 300 copies since the publishing date of 11-26th. I had my first book event at Story... Continue Reading →
So many things going on here! I've been busy, so I'll catch you up. First - I've received 237 pre-orders for Walking The Wrong Way Home. Thanks everybody for supporting me! You helped more than you know. The money received helped pay for artwork for the book, marketing, mailing supplies and books for the event.... Continue Reading →
If you've read my older blogs, you know that I toyed with the idea of starting a Patreon account to help with the costs to publish my book. I just couldn't do it. I know other authors who have and they have fun doing it. And lots of success. But it just wasn't for me.... Continue Reading →
Several people back in Tennessee have asked to read the story. It’s a very personal story, but after my friend told me she was approached by two women at her bridge club who wanted her to thank me for sharing, I decided to put it here. The theme was Hope for The Holidays. Here’s my story –
Kati is an amazing woman. Twenty years ago she was in the Peace Corps, traveling all over Africa making friends and teaching kids.
I bought Where The Wild Things Are at a scholastic book fair in 2nd grade for my little brother. He was four years younger and my little buddy. I couldn't wait to get home and read it to him. If I played hot wheels with him first, he'd let me read to him for as... Continue Reading →
Hey y'all! I'm back for a minute. Sorry I've been missing in action.Lots of good things going on here in Fernandina Beach.Let's see. I submitted a story to Live Ink Theater for their storytelling event in December and it was accepted. The theme is Hope for the Holidays and I'll be telling a story about... Continue Reading →
Walking in Linda's back field in a pair of faded overalls and a wad of Red Man chewing tobacco in his cheek with a determined look on his face. Focused on the divining rods in his hands, he looked like a country preacher or moonshiner, serious in his business.
So I was sitting in the ER last night beside a homeless man who had been bitten in the face by a spider. I was sick as a dog with a kidney infection. We got to be good friends after four or five hours.
She had to decide right then what she was taking and what she was leaving. All her memories out there in the yard.
