[Hey! What can I say? Love is where you find it . . .]
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[There is the right way and there is the wrong way to chop wood. Then there is my way.
I set up the stick on the chopping block, tinker with it until it stands by itself, and then I step back, poise with my axe over my head, and bring it down on the stick as hard as I can.
If I'm lucky, I split off a wedge, which lands a few steps from the block, and then the remaining stick falls off the other side. I pick up the stick and try finding its balancing point on the chopping block, and repeat. If I'm not thoroughly exhausted after this exercise, I try the procedure on another stick. What fun.
Who is this guy anyway? Can we see his wood-chopping permit?]
[Homer was fond of the phrase "the sounding sea". Here we get a sense of why it awed him. Imagine a wooden galley on this water, or the tiny caravel of Christopher Columbus.]

Writer Peter Fergus-Moore at Chapters on Friday surprises the audience with another talent. All photos by Elle Andra-Warner.
We’ve all heard the stories: writers are solitary creatures –unfriendly, friendless, and friendproof.
That may be true . . . sometimes. Certainly there have been times I felt that way, when I was writing, but . . . and this is a big BUT . . . that changes when you’re an author. An author is a writer who has been published.
Once a writer’s work is out there, he or she is no longer solitary. He has friends. And he has enemies. And the friends and enemies are far outnumbered by the people who are entirely indifferent to who the author is and what the author writes. They could care less. But here’s the point: the author is no longer solitary, even if he or she is rubbing shoulders with a mass of humanity who do not know or even care about his existence.
For the author cares. He or she cares a lot. The author’s role is to find friends. Well, readers. Who will become friends.
Writing may be solitary. Authoring is a gregarious activity.
On January 20th and 21st, I and a group of authors offered readings and book signings to a Thunder Bay audience. We performed at the Chapters Indigo store on Friday evening, and at the Coles Book Store on Saturday mid-day.
We laughed, we listened, we spoke, we smiled, we read, we signed, we chatted, we chortled, we just generally had a darn good time. We sold our books and we sold one another’s books. We opened a great many eyes to the great things we local authors are doing, and we made a few more readers. Which is to say, friends.
A great many customersto both book stores remained entirely indifferent to our presence or to our promotions. That’s fair game.
Serendipitously, we got a clip on the local television channel on Saturday night, and our photo in the local daily on Sunday. No doubt that opened a few eyes of those who had been indifferent to us – they had ignored a newsworthy event.
Here’s a link to the TBT clip:
http://www.tbnewswatch.com/Video/23685/Book-Signing-
Now we go back to writing. In solitude. For a while. Until we put on our author hats again, and reach out . . . way, way out . . . and touch a new friend.
[This video depicts a terrestrial with an uncanny resemblance to the world-famous extra-terrestrial depicted by Steven Spielberg. A powerful statement of love and loss . . . Imagine being the last living prehistoric terrestrial on planet Earth.]
[In this day and age, it is rare to find a song with CONTENT - with lyrics that actually say something meaningful and worthwhile. If you only heard the lyrics, you'd miss 90% of the content. Someone has taken the trouble to help you SEE the lyrics.]
Billy Joel