Here I sit in my den. With my computer system (affectionately named Hal), my phone/fax, two filing cabinets, a wall full of books, flags hanging on the wall (St. Andrews Cross, Rampant Lion, and the USA), accompanied by various oils paintings, pictures, and Terry Redlin's plates and calendar sets. My lighthouse, and Lassie collections scattered on shelves here and there. This is my realm. This is where I sit and breathe life into my stories.
My husband respects my realm. Sheepishly peaking in through the door, he tries to catch my eye before he enters. Even the dogs seem to tip toe in and quietly lie down in various spots. Except for my loyal old friend "Minute", who draws my attention in her own special four-footed way. She knows this is as much her room as mine. I have set no rules for this room. My husband and furry "family" seem to have made their own to follow
I write better at night. It seems that stories, very much like dreams, are moon worshipers. I normally write for about two hours. Some nights, however, a particular story might take me away on a journey that will last until 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning. Present time is lost in journeys such as the ones my stories have taken me on. Fingers flying on my keyboard, I have unwittingly created my own time machine. When my story has finally returned me home, I climb into bed exhausted. My husband, arising later, followed by all the dogs but one, quietly draws the shades, shuts the door, and lets me sleep.
A book for every Muslim and everyone wishing to know about their way of life. The Diary of the Camp Manager at Mundihar following the South Asian Earthquake - October 2005. An account of life after the Earthquake in one of the largest of the 161 camp
