On April 16, my publisher and a friend and I attended the awards ceremony for the Townsend Prize.
It was one of those "I don't belong here" moments, although they assured me I did. Especially Ann Hite, one of the judges, who told me how well regarded my book, Lying In, was in the competition (although I didn't win). I was in esteemed literary company and have the photos to prove it.
The Georgia Writers Museum and the Atlanta Writers Club were and are gracious hosts, and it was quite a celebration of writing in Georgia. I owe them thank you notes; today would be a good day for that. With the end of the semester and retirement pending and life in general, I am overwhelmed right now.
However, one thing I know: you cannot rest on the laurel of one recognized book. I must get back to writing; my fiction brain has been dormant, maybe comatose, for a year. Not good. I have ten to twelve ideas--what should I pursue? That's the big question. Lying In will be a hard act to follow.
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