Livia and I were married twenty-eight years ago today. It's a cliche, but it really does seem like the blink of an eye in some ways and forever in others. I can't imagine the last twenty-eight years without her, though. I'm convinced that she's largely responsible for me being a writer, since she told me that if that was what I wanted to do, I had to really work at it. A few months later I sold my first story.
Anniversary or not, I turned out 20 pages today . . . but Livia's the one who told me to go out to the studio and get those pages done.
Working The Trapline — Lift. Run. Shoot.
4 hours ago