Rain falls. I so rarely write about rain with the regularity or the intensity I used to. I guess you move on from subjects once there is nowhere else to go with them or the subjects merely dries up. I never thought rain would dry up on me.
Where are the new subjects? What are they? Even the Oregon Tavern Ages stories have begun to fade since I’ve completed the new, expanded manuscript. And since Clyde passed away and I wrapped up most of that book, I’ve felt listless writing about Bonnie and my continuing adventures at the dog sanctuary, even though I continue to volunteer at that remarkable place.
I suppose a subject can simply die for a writer.
Oregon City in my youth excites me as a subject. So does a social history of American recreational tennis. My idea for a detective novel called The Watershed truly energizes me and I keep gathering material for it and plan on a long road trip for research once I have some existential freedom. I also want to expand my collection of Oregon Christmas tales.
What also interests me a a writer is becoming a reporter for a rural paper and documenting the challenges of the people living there. That is my dream job. I don’t think it will ever happen unless I start a paper myself. I think about that all the time.