Ne'er Waste Your Time

Epitaph of Mary LeFavour, 1797, Age 74, Topsfield, Mass., a very private person:

Reader pass on and ne’er waste your time
On bad biography and bitter rhyme,
For what I am this cumb’rous clay insures,
And what I was, is no affair of yours.

Ellen came through her surgery very well and is now in a rehab center, where she will remain for at least two weeks.  Because they had to crack open her sternum (breast bone) to reach a portion of the tumor, she has to be careful about bumping it and cannot lift, push, or pull any heavier weight than ten pounds for six weeks, then only twenty pounds for another six weeks.  This makes getting out of bed difficult, even with assistance, because she cannot help herself up with her hands, nor allow anyone to pull her up by her arms or hands.  We are scheduled for a follow-up consultation with her primary surgeon on July 16.  The rehab center is right next door to the co-op apartment building we live in, which is extremely handy.

I’m back at work on the final polish of Darned If You Do, and working on the plot of what I’m now calling Ebenezer’s Christmas Yarn.  I have a gorgeous pattern for a lace edging to be crocheted on a handkerchief for Darned, but don’t have an idea for a needlework pattern to go in the back of  Ebenezer.   It takes place in a small theater called The Old Log Theater, a real place in Excelsior.  (I have the owner and his wife’s permission, and so far they’re fine with the plot, even though I plan to murder the owner!)

I’ve been looking at “comfort reads” during this stressful time and, among others, am re-reading some of my own Betsy Devonshire mysteries.  You know something?  These are good stories!  Have any of you other writers turned to some of your past writing and found it good?  It’s been my experience that when book I’ve written first comes out, I find it almost unreadable.  It feels clumsy, amateurish, full of obvious errors.  But give it a few years, let the dust settle, and suddenly it’s not so bad.