Adam Smith born in Edinburgh 1990
Are you breathing while you read this? I’m glad one of us is. Mid-nineties and humidity also in the 90s. Right now there is a thunderstorm of Biblical intensity raging. Ah yes, the joys of summer.
Wherever you are reading this, perhaps you, too, have had a really wet summer. Here in central Virginia we only got up half the hay crop, the ground being too saturated to run heavy equipment over it. Great hay, too, one hates to lose it.
I’ll spare you the bucolic rapture except to say despite the hay losses, the raptors are here in full force, also many Great Blue Herons, plenty of turkey, deer, and of course, my beloved foxes. Watching all this new life lifts me up and inspires me to write.
Sneaky Pie just finished another mystery. I’m working on a book of quotes and pulling together a few years of notes for a standalone novel. To be able to do what you love, make a living at it, is to hit the jackpot in life.
Another wonderful thing is to read the work of friends. Karin Slaughter has an exciting new one out called UNSEEN. I’ve never met historian Niall Ferguson but I sure like to read him, and his newest (THE CASH NEXUS) is a winner. John Sugden also just published his second and last volume on the monumental life of Lord Nelson (NELSON: THE SWORD OF ALBION).
Maybe I actually am still breathing because reading is breathing for the mind, don’t you agree? Some material that utterly fascinates me, and is likely unfamiliar to you, are old hunt diaries on foxhunting, published from the mid-Eighteenth to early Twentieth Century in England and America. Foxhunting has made a huge contribution to English Literature. (There is much written about Cricket as well.) Perhaps, like myself, you think the fastest way into a culture or a time is through a study of its arts or sports. Think of a past time and the culture that gave us jousting, and you gain insight into the people back then.
I’d like to think that my Sister Jane mystery series continues in this centuries old tradition. Were you to write about modern day soccer in New York City, an entire world would be revealed to you and your reader. It’s fascinating.
As many of you know, I do not own a computer. So the keepers of this website need to remind me to write letters like this one. Should you be appalled or envious about why I step aside from the so-called digital age (what an awful moniker, shorn of all glory, sexiness or even a whiff of decadence), here are a few reasons. Were I to use a computer two things would happen:
1. I would endlessly research extraneous subjects.
2. I would be expected to instantly respond to queries such as “Do you ever use your mother’s maiden name?” or “Why didn’t your mother strangle you at birth?”
When would I write? How could I work my hounds or my horses? My nether regions would be positioned on a chair and I’d be responding to a screen instead of life — breathing, sweating, thrilling life!
There is one other reason: if you sit in the front of a computer all the time your butt will get big enough to show a movie on it. With that high tone thought, I leave you and wish you a glorious rest of the summer.
Ever and always,
Will she’s blabbing on, I have caught one blacksnake and two moles. Now that’s productivity.
Why be productive? That’s so very Puritan and cats are never puritanical except for Sneaky Pie, poor dear.
Cats are crazy. Listen to us dogs. If you’re listening to a corgi, every word is the absolute truth.