tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-129985442012-01-19T01:15:37.263-08:00Bill Branley's memoir blog, essays about my high and low moments since I was old enough to remember them. <p>This blog was the home of <b>Peggy Finds A Friend</b>, which became the novel <b><em>Sea Changes</em></b>, which is out of print but you might find a copy on Amazon.</p>islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.comBlogger1331100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-52938962136146802972009-03-07T11:11:00.000-08:002009-03-07T11:56:00.489-08:00

I guess I didn't do a very good job of sticking to my memoir action plan, which was to write an essay about something interesting in each year of my life. I worked backward from 2008 and got stuck on 2005, when my mother died and Hurricane Katrina wiped out my home town of New Orleans. Those two events happened within a few days of each other, in fact my mother's funeral was originally

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-28040605724295796332008-07-09T20:42:00.000-07:002008-07-09T20:55:11.033-07:00

Note: This is the last of a three part series describing my adventures in the publishing industry. Here are links to the first two parts:2006 - My Great Publishing Adventure - Part 1 of 32006 - My Great Publishing Adventure - Part 2 of 3Part 3:So I got my book printed. Now what? Now comes the part you can't control, which includes getting reviewers to review your book, getting bookstores to

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-50831225383853808132008-07-06T07:32:00.000-07:002008-07-06T07:47:58.054-07:00

Who did the editing and design of my book? In the next few sections I will describe the steps I followed to get from a first draft manuscript to a set of electronic files that my offset printer would accept. Please read Part 1 for a description of how I got to this point in my publishing saga. - Editing. Here's Rule #2 -- Don't Edit Your Own Book. Of course, you will do some initial editing,

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-66516107391241789442008-07-05T06:40:00.000-07:002008-07-05T07:26:55.149-07:00

Let's get right down to the cold hard truth about book publishing: someone has to buy the books. I know. It seems awfully small-minded of those publishers to be concerned with actual sales when it comes to your book, your creation, the product of your genius and your countless hours of effort. Now, suppose you create a niche literary masterpiece that is highly prized by, say, seventy-three

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-22774029015342180462008-06-08T10:02:00.000-07:002008-06-08T15:39:33.950-07:00

In May of 2007, approximately a year and a few weeks ago, I stopped going to Mass at our local Catholic church. Although I had attended Mass all my life, on that particular day, my last day at Mass, I sat in my usual pew at church and said to myself, "This can't be right." I have not been back to that church or any other church since then.I was what some call a "cradle Catholic." That is, I

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-50692443129815727312008-05-24T09:14:00.000-07:002008-05-24T19:10:27.966-07:00

It is fitting, I think, to begin a memoir with an event that represents a major change of direction in one's life. For me, it came this year when I interviewed for a job at Amazon.com and did not get it. I am pretty sure it was only the second time in my life I interviewed for a position that I didn't get. The first time was when I was a lieutenant in the Army and was interviewed by a

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-26008695806167340012008-05-18T20:08:00.000-07:002008-07-09T20:51:51.849-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about what to do with this blog. It was originally a place where I serialized a couple of fiction pieces. That was fun, but after a while I was ready to move on, to "re-purpose" this space, as they say in modern lingo. This change of heart about serializing stories could be related to Stephen King's advice to "write the first draft in private" (see his memoir, On

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-69457982650769196882008-04-26T20:25:00.000-07:002008-04-26T20:42:35.593-07:00

Hi Folks,I am getting ready to resurrect this blog. It won't be a fiction blog, at least not long serialized pieces like there were in the past, but it may contain occasional short fiction or poetry. Rather, I am hoping to use this forum to explain what I learned about writing and publishing over the last few years while I took the plunge and quit my day job to become a world famous author and

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-31149985292597727872007-08-08T18:26:00.000-07:002007-08-08T18:28:50.146-07:00

Dear Readers,My track record for posting to this blog is horrible. I am busy working on the sequel to Sea Changes, plus a Young Adult story, and playing lots of jazz piano, and doing things with my family, but I can't seem to find any time for posting episodes of anything to this blog. Oh, and having a day job doesn't help. Thanks for reading, and thanks for stopping by to see what's happening

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-69223550060618338862007-06-19T21:40:00.000-07:002007-06-19T21:41:25.373-07:00

When they reached the big fish stall at the end of the market, a crowd had gathered to watch the fish sellers throw fish to the wrappers. Walter raised his video camera to eye level, ready to shoot.A large man with a bushy mustache held up a long silver-colored fish. "Somebody has to buy this fish so's I can toss it," he bellowed.Myra tugged on her father's sleeve. "Buy a fish, Daddy.""We

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-50234187067583019162007-06-17T19:50:00.000-07:002007-06-17T19:52:15.408-07:00

Myra Finch was impressed by the banjo player in Pike Place Market. His long gray beard shook as he strummed hard on the strings. The instrument was worn, like his body.She had never heard a real banjo. It made a funny twang that was nothing like a guitar, and when he played fast, his fingers were such a blur she couldn't see them, and the notes sounded like rain falling in a tin can.Myra

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-41673772250815363012007-06-01T21:51:00.000-07:002007-06-01T22:00:03.305-07:00

Sea Changes has earned an Honorable Mention in the ForeWord Magazine 2006 Book of the Year Awards. Visit One Sock Press for more information, and take advantage of the publisher's special discount in honor of this recognition.As many of you know, the story of Sea Changes began right here on this blog two years ago: May 18, 2005, to be exact. That was when I began Peggy Finds A Friend. Little

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-56685350182184957042007-06-01T06:02:00.000-07:002007-06-01T06:28:16.745-07:00

Dear Readers,I have decided to put this story aside for a while. It has developed in a way that I did not intend, and so, rather than fight it, I'm going to take a break from the tale and return to it later.I will speak now from a writing point of view, since what I have to say is mainly of interest to writers of fiction. It has been two years since I began writing serialized fiction on this

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-10160253078882487462007-05-15T06:21:00.000-07:002007-05-17T06:33:07.828-07:00

December in Washington. Doris Austin stood in the cold night air with some of the staff, waiting for FLOTUS to light the national Christmas tree. FLOTUS was the acronym for First Lady of the United States; its companion acronym was POTUS, President of the United States. Many staffers simply used FLOTUS and POTUS as everyday nicknames for the president and his wife. Some people shortened the

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-27866879334150004072007-05-07T06:08:00.000-07:002007-05-07T06:23:10.732-07:00

The day after Toby died, Emily placed the cat in a cardboard box and buried him in Fitch field, in a hole dug by Emily's father. They stood solemnly around the hole while Emily said goodbye to Toby. Emily's mother and gave her tissue for the tears that rolled down her cheeks. For two weeks after her cat died, Emily was in a slump. At home, she didn't even pick on her brother when he went out

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-84018725965689521522007-04-23T19:52:00.000-07:002007-04-23T20:10:24.840-07:00

Doris Austin didn't report directly to the president, her official supervisor being Cory Metcalf, the Chief of Staff. But, as they say in Washington, she had the president's ear and therefore treated the president as her boss and often got her direction from him personally. Yet Cory was powerful because he was the president's number one gatekeeper, and if she really wanted something to happen

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-14128795624287613302007-04-01T20:12:00.000-07:002007-04-01T20:28:01.627-07:00

Doris Austin went to work the same way every day. Her boss reminded her to change her routine once in a while; he wanted her to leave her house at different times, and follow different routes to work. But she didn't always listen. Instead, she was more concerned with not getting stuck in commuter traffic.On this particular day she left her house in Alexandria, Virginia, at 5:55 am, drove her

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-31803676600934849642007-03-18T13:38:00.000-07:002007-03-18T14:07:59.253-07:00

Leo Kennedy came through the front door and into the kitchen. He was not a tall man, but he was stocky and muscular."'Lo, Em," he said. "Hi, Dad. Sell any solar panels today?" said Emily."As a matter of fact, I signed two contracts," said Leo. He was proud of his new line of solar panels; 'the most cost effective on the market,' he told everyone. He often took prospective customers to a

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-2212840676167023012007-03-03T09:55:00.000-08:002007-03-03T10:01:06.039-08:00

Rory faced the room triumphantly, having finally knotted his tie. Emily thought the knot could be a little neater but didn't say anything."Are you guys going to have martinis and caviar?" she said."That's what's known as underage drinking," said Rory. Emily and Rory both had the same dark shade of brown hair tinged with red. The red had been more prominent when they were toddlers. Rory's

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-65188001238040050572007-02-24T21:42:00.000-08:002007-02-24T21:45:26.227-08:00

Emily Kennedy could see the argument coming.She lay with her long legs draped over a pile of cushions on the living room sofa. Her brother, Rory, had just walked in holding a necktie. It could only mean one thing."Going to your brainwashing session?" Emily asked, stroking the gray-and-black ears of her cat, Toby."Very funny. Someone has to undo the seventy years of havoc wreaked by liberals in

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1169578172661946272007-01-23T10:39:00.000-08:002007-01-23T10:49:32.680-08:00

Hi Folks,I am finally recovering from end-of-year craziness and lots of music playing. Actually, the music stuff hasn't let up. You can visit www.billbranley.com/jazz to find out the latest.In spite of having almost no time left in my day, I am going to start serializing another story on this site. It will be called President For A Day and has lots of politics and humor, which seem to occur

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1160485652239022652006-10-10T05:45:00.000-07:002006-10-10T06:07:32.380-07:00

(Author's Note: This is the final episode of Night Watch. After I received word that a short version of this story won an award, I realized that the blog had served its purpose. After all, I enjoy the serialized form because it helps me write a good first draft. Although this blog is now 28,000 words, it helped me write a 2000-word story, Angela, that was good enough to win the Emerging

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1159887371146740952006-10-03T07:47:00.000-07:002006-10-03T07:59:40.446-07:00

Yesterday I received a telephone call announcing that I have won the Humanities Washington Emerging Writer Award. My short story, "Angela" was selected from among 60 entries. First prize is $500, plus I will read "Angela" at the annual gala fundraiser on Oct 27. Other speakers will include Mary Guterson (author of We Are All Fine Here), Karen Fisher (author of A Sudden Country) and local writing

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1158337944672826792006-09-15T09:31:00.000-07:002006-09-15T09:41:01.896-07:00

As David walked through the door of his house, he heard conversation and the clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen. Among the voices, he picked out those of Graphite and Olivia. But he hardly had time to process this when a soft, fleshy projectile crashed into his legs. It was Tony, who announced David's arrival with a loud "Dad!" David lifted Tony from the floor with a sweeping motion

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1157640935475395892006-09-07T07:46:00.000-07:002006-09-07T07:55:35.523-07:00

(Author’s note: We left off, before our break for Katrina observances, on the morning after a long night of labor for Angela. Her parents, Natalie and Buddy, are at the house helping out, as is her sister, Olivia. At this point, Angela’s labor is somewhat stalled, as labors can be, and so David has decided to make a quick trip to his office, ostensibly to get his cell phone charger, but really

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1156834433680627622006-08-28T23:50:00.000-07:002006-08-28T23:59:56.530-07:00

(Note from Bill: This post is from my cousin, Tom Arceneaux, who has such an amazing Katrina story that I said, you gotta write it down! So he did. Here it is in his own words. Enjoy.)Last year at this time I was in New Orleans, having gone to Louisiana for a job interview. After almost 20 years in Georgia I'd decided it was time to move back to be closer to the family. Atlanta traffic alone

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1156377434441215722006-08-23T16:22:00.000-07:002006-08-23T16:57:14.503-07:00

Whew! Things have been so busy I am behind in my postings. Part 20 of Night Watch is near completion and should be out soon. Here's a quick wrap up:** I donated 46 copies of Sea Changes to Social Change Caravan (www.socialchangecaravan.org). This group left Seattle this morning, Aug 23, headed to Louisiana with a busload of Katrina evacuees hoping to get resettled. Most of them have been

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1155566729896567992006-08-14T07:37:00.000-07:002006-08-14T07:45:29.916-07:00

The house bustled with new activity. David and Natalie went into the kitchen to prepare yet another breakfast. Buddy came in and tried to help. Together they formed an assembly line to unload the dishwasher of clean dishes so that the dirty ones from the last meal could be cleared off the counter.Victoria announced that she was going home for a while but would be near the phone. "I have to

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1155227683688996952006-08-10T09:27:00.000-07:002006-08-10T09:34:43.720-07:00

David was roused from a deep snooze by two sounds occurring almost simultaneously: a loud moan from Angela indicating a major contraction, and a soft knocking on the front door.A ray of orange sunlight slanted into the room. Olivia sat up. She ignored the door and went straight for the bedroom, her eyes only half-open, as though sleepwalking. David hauled himself out of the recliner and opened

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1154965522885065742006-08-07T08:38:00.000-07:002006-08-07T08:53:12.886-07:00

(Continued from previous episode. Sorry for the long delay. My wife and I took a little Northwest vacation. We started in Bellingham, WA, where I gave a talk at Village Books that was nicely attended. Many thanks to those who supported the event. Over the next few days we visited Anacortes and Whidbey Island and did lots of nice walking on scenic trails. In Anacortes we attended the big

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1154453317306336252006-08-01T10:19:00.000-07:002006-08-01T10:28:37.326-07:00

Victoria came out of the bedroom and joined them at the dining room table."It's too quiet in there," said David. From his chair he could see the clock in the kitchen and had been monitoring the time between Angela's contractions."She's sleeping," said Victoria."Sleeping! How can that be?" he said in a hoarse whisper, hardly hiding his disappointment.Victoria spoke in an even tone. "Angela is

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1154095520002825242006-07-28T06:59:00.000-07:002006-07-28T07:05:20.020-07:00

David tore into the breakfast Olivia had prepared for him. She came to the table with her own plate and sat down. David noticed that her hair was streaked with some new tints; it was always changing color. David wondered about her current situation; it was always changing, too. Boyfriends, jobs, apartments, cars: a parade of possessions acquired and discarded. Her mood followed accordingly:

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1153764958944395952006-07-24T10:57:00.000-07:002006-07-24T11:15:59.036-07:00

David had never seen his house so busy at four o'clock in the morning. Angela was having contractions about every seven minutes. David had tried to appoint himself the official timekeeper but was fired after Victoria took away his wristwatch. He tried napping or reading but was too restless. Olivia announced she was hungry and had started fixing breakfast. Jade had left after extracting from

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1153409919801900672006-07-20T08:30:00.000-07:002006-07-20T08:38:39.830-07:00

As David lay staring at the ceiling of the living room he had to admit he did experience the sensation of something seeping from him, like stress or anxiety or tension, oozing out of his pores and collecting on the floor. There was something about the position; he imagined his blood flowing unrestricted throughout his body. Victoria had moved to the sofa and was talking. "Sometimes I have to

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1153235552894758422006-07-18T08:04:00.000-07:002006-07-18T08:18:36.976-07:00

Jade and Olivia pushed aside the coffee table and unrolled Victoria's yoga mat over the hardwood floor in the living room. At first, David continued to resist. Graphite wisely fled the scene; David saw him go out with a smirk on his face. The women quickly overcame David's objections and coaxed him onto the mat. It was the look from Angela that did it: she gave him the

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1152898580096528922006-07-14T10:28:00.000-07:002006-07-14T10:36:20.116-07:00

While the coffee dripped and gurgled in the coffee maker, David tried to finish the Post article he had started at the beginning of the evening, the one about Alan Greenspan's eight-million-dollar book deal. It occurred to David that being paid that much money to write a book would be a heck of a lot better than grinding away at a technology startup. It wasn't how he thought it would be. He

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1152711803494284552006-07-12T06:39:00.000-07:002006-07-12T06:43:23.520-07:00

A large contraction seized Angela a little after two o'clock in the morning. David was rinsing a mug at the kitchen sink when he heard the anguished cry. He rushed into the bedroom to find Victoria and Olivia staring in awe at Angela's belly. It reminded him of two teenage boys hunched over the engine of a car--back in the days when boys were interested in cars--but these two women were

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1152549303763207972006-07-10T09:28:00.000-07:002006-07-10T09:35:03.790-07:00

Wait! Don't pay a mental health professional if you're feeling depressed. Just give yourself a weekend away from your computer and you'll feel like you won the lottery. I went camping Saturday night and Sunday night with the family and didn't even turn on my computer until Monday morning. It was glorious. Let's face it. Nobody important ever sends you an email on the weekend. Have you ever

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1152201242409156722006-07-06T08:42:00.000-07:002006-07-06T08:54:02.446-07:00

(This episode is continued from Part 8. We are several years in the past. David and Angela are still only dating, and David has just met Angela's cousin, Olivia. I recommend reading 8 first if you haven't already. Thanks. BB)After greeting Olivia, Angela came over to David and kissed him. "Welcome to our beach," she said."It's wonderful. And what an awesome day," said David."Just wait,

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1151781505809423082006-07-01T12:06:00.000-07:002006-07-01T12:18:27.120-07:00

Angela breathed a sigh of relief when they got back into the air conditioned house. "Here I am carrying around my own personal heater on an eighty-degree evening."She sat in a chair and fanned herself while David poured glasses of water for both of them. Victoria announced that Angela's cousin, Olivia, had called to say she was in town."Thank goodness," said Angela. "Did she say where she was

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1151599134958405332006-06-29T09:06:00.000-07:002006-06-29T09:38:55.096-07:00

An Evening in New Orleans, June 24, 2006I parked my rental car a block off Decatur Street, feeling proud of myself for finding free street parking on a Saturday night in the French Quarter. I was in town for the American Library Association annual meeting and, being a native of the area, decided to see for myself how things were going in the city. It was my third visit to New Orleans since the

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1151430914694080572006-06-27T10:50:00.000-07:002006-06-27T10:57:53.446-07:00

I am preparing an essay to post here about my recent trip to New Orleans for the American Library Association annual meeting. Since New Orleans is my hometown, I figured, Hey, my take on things is as good as anybody's, right? After all, you are entitled to my opinion. (yes, I stole that line from a famous newsman)Please check back in a day or two for the essay about my evening in the French

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1150893971174709542006-06-21T05:42:00.000-07:002006-06-21T05:46:11.203-07:00

Angela wanted water and a walk and a trip to the bathroom, not in that order. David helped her up, and tried to escort her around the bed."I can still walk," she said.David stepped aside to let her pass, but in doing so bumped his arm into Victoria's breasts. She gave him a look with knives in it. He was losing friends fast in this household."Is it still raining?" Angela asked after coming out

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1150729117520134742006-06-19T07:54:00.000-07:002006-06-19T08:04:22.796-07:00

Just as David was rounding Angela's chin and approaching her neck with the cool compress, he felt a vibration coming from his pocket. It was his cell phone, on which he normally received only work-related calls, or calls from his wife when he was at the grocery store. At quarter to one in the morning it could only be bad news.He looked at Angela. She had heard it; his phone didn't vibrate

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1150465634720726202006-06-16T06:39:00.000-07:002006-06-16T06:47:14.736-07:00

David paced the living room floor. It was a half-hour past midnight. He couldn't read, or sleep. Ten minutes ago, a painful shriek from the bedroom made him cringe. He imagined important body parts being enlarged inside of Angela, moving, shifting, widening, making way. He heard his name called from the bedroom. He rushed in; craving a duty to perform, anything. Victoria handed him a

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1150293794545801972006-06-14T06:56:00.000-07:002006-06-14T07:03:14.653-07:00

David felt something that made him sit forward quickly. He had been slumped back on the sofa, a book in his lap, the reading lamp next to him still burning brightly. Angela was standing over him. She had touched his shoulder."I need to walk," she said.David looked at his watch: eleven o'clock. After washing the dinner dishes he had decided to start a book, and chose Deception Point by Dan

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1150126948289398942006-06-12T08:30:00.000-07:002006-06-12T08:48:26.026-07:00

Victoria LeFrance swept past David into the house, leaving in her wake a whiff of incense and perfume mixed with moist summer air. David felt the swish of her long, flowing skirt and heard the creak of sturdy sandals. The doula had arrived. With hardly a handshake and a how-do-you-do, she asked David to put a kettle of water on for tea and then disappeared into the bedroom, where Angela

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1149632817074231412006-06-06T15:13:00.000-07:002006-06-06T15:26:57.123-07:00

David closed the front door after they had stepped out, conscious of the air conditioning humming inside the house. As he debated whether to lock the door, he instinctively touched his pockets to feel for the keys. The screen door slipped from his fingers and closed with a whack.Angela froze. "David, you know I can't stand the sound of that door slamming.""It slipped. I was checking for my

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1149528126840232382006-06-05T10:16:00.000-07:002006-06-19T17:39:44.553-07:00

(Note: This is a new serialized fiction piece. It has a few connections to Peggy Finds A Friend. Enjoy, and thanks for reading.) "The what?" David looked at his wife. She had just said a word that he didn't recognize."The doula."He stalled for time. They had had this conversation already. If only he could remember the details."D-O-U-L-A. Doula," she said. When she spelled things, it

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1149453342700359992006-06-04T13:25:00.000-07:002006-06-04T13:37:24.813-07:00

The June 1 New York Times contains a very interesting article by staff writer Elizabeth Olson about how men and women behave differently when they lose their spouses following a long marriage. The main thrust of the article is captured in this line: "When there is death in a marriage, women mourn, men replace." I think this nicely reflects the basic story line in Peggy Finds A Friend, and in

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1148313211722614862006-05-22T08:31:00.000-07:002006-05-22T08:54:43.676-07:00

Talk about Deja Vu! I returned to a scene from Peggy Finds A Friend this weekend when I went to a Washington Nationals game at RFK Stadium in D.C. In fact, I sat in the same seat as last summer when I blogged the episode in which Raoul gets thrown out of the game for pestering the Homeland Security boss. This time around, though, the Nats won!My reason for being in the seat of government was

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1145650111780519152006-04-21T13:04:00.000-07:002006-04-21T13:08:31.800-07:00

Advance Reader Copies of Sea Changes are now available.Please write to info@onesockpress.com to request one for review.Here is a description of the book:SEA CHANGES: A NovelAuthor: Bill BranleyISBN 0-9778561-0-0Publisher: One Sock PressFormat: Trade Paperback, 256 pagesSize: 8.5 x 5.5Price: $14.95/US, $17.50/CANRelease Date: July 2006Distributed by AtlasBooksAvailable through Ingram and

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1142733649884390222006-03-18T17:55:00.000-08:002006-03-18T18:05:19.156-08:00

Dear Readers,Peggy Finds A Friend will be published in June as...Sea Changes: A NovelAuthor: Bill BranleyISBN 0-9778561-0-0Publisher: One Sock PressTrade Paperback, 256 pagesSize: 8.5 x 5.5Price: $14.95/US, $17.50/CANDistributed by AtlasBooks/BMIAvailable through IngramAdvance Reader Copies will be available March 30. If you know of a book reviewer or bookstore owner who would like to review

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1139593598220499052006-02-10T09:40:00.000-08:002006-02-10T09:48:35.786-08:00

Hello Peggy Readers,I have been busy adapting Peggy Finds A Friend into a novel, as yet untitled. I plan to self-publish under my own imprint, called One Sock Press. My goal is to have advance reader copies rolling off the press in late March, and then officially release in May or June. It will be distributed nationally. If you would like to read an advance copy please send an email to me at

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1133731108038658422005-12-04T12:30:00.000-08:002005-12-04T13:18:30.770-08:00

Friday, Oct 14. Late evening.It was close to midnight. Peggy stood on the sidewalk in front of a small 1st Avenue bar and shook hands with Dr. Hanford Hinckley. Milton Pacer, her boss, jabbered excitedly at her elbow."It certainly was our pleasure, Dr. Hinckley," Milton was saying.Peggy hardly heard him. Instead, she was struck, as she had been all evening, by how Dr. Hinckley reminded her

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1132604705052014842005-11-21T12:23:00.000-08:002005-11-21T12:25:05.090-08:00

Nov 27, midnight, Pacific Time, will be the deadline for voting on the outcome of Peggy Finds A Friend. You can, if you wish, provide a few paragraphs explaining your choice and you might win a $100 BookSense gift card. Please go to the Peggy Contest Page to find out more and to cast your vote!

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1131048215785604042005-11-03T11:55:00.000-08:002005-11-03T12:05:10.663-08:00

At long last it's time for the Peggy Finds A Friend writing contest. If you have stayed with Peggy this far, congratulations, and thank you for reading. The second-to-last episode, Part Sixty-Nine, was posted Nov 2. Part Seventy, when it is published, will be the end of the story. I've been saying all along that I would like readers to propose an ending to the story. If you've been reading

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1130968029810348372005-11-02T13:32:00.000-08:002005-11-02T13:47:09.840-08:00

This concludes the multi-part episode that began with Part Sixty-Four.Friday, October 14As the boat neared Blake Island, Peggy moved forward, unsteadily, and gripped the back of Luke's seat with one hand while holding onto her hat with the other. The island seemed desolate, prehistoric, a place where ancient rituals might be performed in great secrecy. She felt like a trespasser, and it filled

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1130872978953236632005-11-01T11:10:00.000-08:002005-11-01T11:22:59.033-08:00

Continued from Part Sixty-SevenFriday, October 14"Excuse me, Peggy, I don't think I heard you correctly," said Luke over the phone. "It sounded like you wanted me to give you a ride to Blake Island in the boat.""Yes. Can you do it?"Like an astute salesman, his voice changed from confusion to warmth. "Sure, Peggy, perhaps some weekend we can organize a little outing. Um, were you thinking of

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1130734453929208052005-10-30T20:44:00.000-08:002005-10-31T07:49:37.193-08:00

Continued from Part Sixty-SixFriday, October 14She left the Rolling Bay area in a hurry, at one point spinning her tires on a bit of mud in the road as she turned north toward Fay Bainbridge State Park. The tall graceful evergreens swept past her window unnoticed, as did the colorful clusters of maple and birch trees. There was a fresh Fall dampness in the air, and sunlight. But she hardly

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1130172434644193612005-10-24T09:38:00.000-07:002005-10-24T09:47:14.656-07:00

Continued from Part Sixty-FiveFriday, October 14Peggy drove back to her house from Raoul's in the same amount of time it took her to go the other way: eight minutes, two minutes faster than normal. She screeched to a halt in her driveway and then, in her rush to get from the car to the house, she did the one thing she absolutely did not want to do at that moment: she locked her keys in her car.

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1129734670426653342005-10-19T07:59:00.000-07:002005-10-19T08:11:10.450-07:00

Continued from Part Sixty-FourFriday, October 14Having made the return trip from Seattle, fidgeting in her seat the entire way, Peggy rushed down the ramp from the ferry as soon as it landed at Bainbridge Island, leaving in her wake a trail of curious morning commuters. She quickly walked the distance to her house and got directly into her car. She thought about going in first to check for

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1129486709285679022005-10-16T11:12:00.000-07:002005-10-16T11:18:29.296-07:00

Friday, October 14Peggy took the early ferry into town. She had been busy the entire week, dividing her work hours between home and office. Her schedule had been erratic, but the project was fascinating: she was collecting research results from three different ocean monitoring teams that were involved in a detailed study of water temperatures. She had deadlines, and an impatient boss. She

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1129070775402636122005-10-11T15:39:00.000-07:002005-10-11T15:46:15.420-07:00

Peggy whistled to herself as she boarded the 6:20 a.m. ferry. She projected an air confidence and purpose. Above all she was not the least bit annoyed over the argument she had had with Raoul the previous evening.Peggy relaxed when she saw only Paula. She could handle Paula, the others would pester her for details. She wasn't in the mood for explaining."I suppose the poor 5:20 ferry has

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1128980282246047372005-10-10T14:33:00.000-07:002005-10-10T14:38:02.260-07:00

Peggy had a plan. She mulled it over as she boarded the 6:20 a.m. ferry, telling herself it had nothing to do with her fifty-ninth birthday, which was just a couple of weeks away. I'm not one of those people who seek immortality, she told herself."What were they thinking?" Kelly fumed as Peggy found her usual seat. Paula was there. Peggy wondered why Paula and Kelly hadn't caught the 5:20

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1128786724765065872005-10-08T08:47:00.000-07:002005-10-08T08:52:04.783-07:00

Peggy and Raoul went to New Orleans with Raoul's sister, Fran, to help the Lambert family recover from Hurricane Katrina. Fran's lifelong friend, Agnes Lambert, had died just before the storm.Monday, Oct 3Peggy noticed a striking fact during her first day in Agnes Lambert's neighborhood: she didn't meet a single person who wasn't totally preoccupied with some aspect of storm recovery. It was

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1128283016762293512005-10-02T12:49:00.000-07:002005-11-03T10:08:29.396-08:00

"You guys aren't being very creative," complained Raoul. "We want more, uh, color."Peggy smiled to herself as she sipped a glass of white wine with her legs curled beneath her on the floor of Raoul's living room. He was so cute when he was really focused on something. Outside it was a gray, wet Saturday afternoon. Autumn leaves careened through the air and splattered against the windows,

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1127850701275591122005-09-27T12:44:00.000-07:002005-09-27T12:51:41.296-07:00

I am afraid that I have not been very diligent about keeping up with Peggy postings. Ever since the hurricane I have had trouble focusing on the story. Next week I will be returning to New Orleans to help with the difficult task of removing salvageable, and unsalvageable, property from my mother's house. I will probably not have an Internet connection. This week, in anticipation of that trip,

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1127320648297414892005-09-21T09:32:00.000-07:002005-09-21T09:37:28.303-07:00

"I have pictures," said Peggy as she boarded the 5:20 a.m. ferry and joined her commuting comrades."I hope they're not too incriminating," said Luke, sitting between Florence and Paula."Are you kidding?" said Florence, nudging him. "Those are the best kind.""Actually, they're from the little sailing trip that Raoul and I did on Sunday," said Peggy."Hmm, I'm picturing martinis and skimpy bathing

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1127146373447249812005-09-19T09:08:00.000-07:002005-09-19T09:12:53.456-07:00

"Shrimp stew. From the kitchen of Agnes Lambert." Florence said the words aloud as she wrote them in big letters at the top of a page in her notebook. She sat in the glare of an overhead light on the 5:20 a.m. ferry with the notebook on her knees."Why are you rewriting the recipe?" asked Luke."Because some genius spilled wine all over my original copy," said Florence with a glance toward the

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1126798009724376572005-09-15T08:24:00.000-07:002005-09-15T08:26:49.730-07:00

"Shouldn't we be having a going away party?" said Luke."We are having a going away party," said Peggy. "I brought scones and tea for everyone."There was a chorus of oohs as Peggy opened a bag and began to pass out currant scones. Then she passed around paper cups and poured tea from two large Thermos bottles."These are perfectly shaped," said Paula."Wow. They taste just like the ones you get

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1126711451218564932005-09-14T08:18:00.000-07:002005-09-14T08:24:11.226-07:00

Peggy gazed up at a sky filled with stars when she stepped out of Raoul's house and waited in the driveway for him to back the car out of the garage. It was a different routine for both of them. Before moving in with Raoul, Peggy had had a ten minute walk to the ferry, and Raoul had ridden his motorcycle. Now they both rode in his car from his house in the Rolling Bay area of Bainbridge

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1126628172143943752005-09-13T09:09:00.000-07:002005-09-13T09:16:12.503-07:00

"Excuse me," said Florence in a sweet voice right after she bumped Kelly's arm.It looked to Peggy like a deliberate bump. "Did I interrupt you?" said Florence with a show of concern."I am preparing my potato farming shopping list," said Kelly with pen in hand. "Now, let's see, cottonseed meal, bone meal, greensand, kelp meal...""Sounds like a recipe for casting spells," said Florence. She sat

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1126500074689807352005-09-11T21:38:00.000-07:002005-09-11T21:41:14.700-07:00

(Continued from Part Fifty-Three. It is August 27th, two days before Katrina. Peggy and Raoul have just evacuated New Orleans with the Lambert family. )They couldn't make it all the way to Georgia in one go: there were simply too many miles to cover. The evacuation route out of New Orleans took them west on I-10 and north on I-55 toward Jackson, Mississippi. There were state police on the

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1126023788296180942005-09-06T09:21:00.000-07:002005-09-06T09:23:08.310-07:00

(Continued from Part Fifty-Two. Peggy and Raoul are in New Orleans. It is Thursday evening, August 25, and they have just left the hospital where Fran's best friend, Agnes, has died.)The tiny house that was the home of the late Agnes Lambert of Metairie, Louisiana, was chaotic. Children and adults were in constant motion, the phone rang repeatedly, the television was on but someone had muted

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1125691902562988652005-09-02T12:56:00.000-07:002005-09-02T13:11:43.703-07:00

Continued from Part Fifty-One. Peggy and Raoul are in New Orleans with Raoul's sister, Fran. Fran's best friend is in the hospital after a stroke. Hurricane Katrina is coming, but no one is paying any attention to it yet.The intensive care waiting area was designed for lots of grieving families. As Peggy entered behind Raoul and Fran, she saw that the room was subdivided into separate small

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1125329130457560972005-08-29T08:20:00.000-07:002005-08-29T08:25:30.466-07:00

(Note: This is the first of a multi-part episode.)Peggy got the call from Raoul at 3 p.m. last Wednesday afternoon. Sunlight was pouring in her office window. It was a spectacular day in Seattle and she was thinking of what she wanted to do over the coming weekend. Mostly she was wondering if she should propose doing something with Raoul, something simple, like a walk in the woods."I have to

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1124899375415130852005-08-24T08:58:00.000-07:002005-08-24T09:02:55.430-07:00

Peggy was a little saddened to discover that the soft light illuminating her front yard when she stepped outside was moonlight. At 5:10 in the morning it was dark enough for a half moon to light up the landscape. Gone, she realized, were the brightly lit mornings with blue skies overhead and brilliant orange skies in the east. Winter, and short days, were approaching fast.But as the ferry

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1124812562026250702005-08-23T08:46:00.000-07:002005-08-23T08:56:02.033-07:00

"Kelly, have you finished your new bumper sticker?" asked Raoul as they gathered on the morning ferry."Still working on it," said Kelly."I must have missed that," said Luke. "What bumper sticker?""It reads…God Created Evolution," said Kelly."You were distracted," Florence said to Luke. "We understand. It's natural among the younger members of the male species when confronted with lovely

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1124377630539310482005-08-18T08:03:00.000-07:002005-08-18T08:07:10.550-07:00

The call from Taylor came last night while she was washing dishes. Peggy had been dreading it, but she scolded herself because she knew she was thinking only of how Taylor's actions affected her."I went to Philadelphia," Taylor had said. Peggy replayed the conversation in her mind as she walked slowly to the ferry."Did you have a good time?" she asked, realizing the question had multiple

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1124297618327574652005-08-17T09:47:00.000-07:002005-08-17T09:53:38.336-07:00

"Ferdinand, good to see you again," said Peggy. It was a full house among Peggy's group on the 5:20 a.m. ferry. Ferdinand had returned from teaching at a jazz camp in Idaho Falls. Peggy sat between him and Kelly Flinn. Facing them were Raoul, Florence and Luke. In addition, Luke brought a new person."This is Paula," said Luke.Paula appeared to be in her late-twenties. She glowed with

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1124204279877657582005-08-16T07:49:00.000-07:002005-08-16T07:57:59.886-07:00

"I'm still waiting to hear about your Congressional testimony," said Kelly Flinn with a mouthful of currant scone.Raoul rolled his eyes. "Oh, that.""Did you meet any important people?" asked Florence, nibbling on the edge of her scone."No, but we sure met a lot of unimportant ones," said Raoul."Raoul almost got into a fight with a guy from the Sierra Club," said Peggy."He was full of this

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1124124036898820862005-08-15T09:33:00.000-07:002005-08-15T09:41:57.620-07:00

The morning was not completely dark: in the east a dull glow of purple and crimson stretched across the sky. As the ferry eased out into Puget Sound the outlines of the Cascade Range became visible, and the taller buildings of the city skyline gradually emerged.Peggy stood on the deck watching the first light of day, sipping tea and waiting for her phone to ring. She had played phone tag all

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1123777303721278652005-08-11T09:14:00.000-07:002005-08-11T10:19:02.253-07:00

"I always get those bridges confused," said Florence."This is the Manhattan Bridge," said Raoul, holding up a photo. "See the tower, toward the right?"Florence leaned over Raoul's arm more than she needed to, Peggy noticed from the opposite seat on the 5:20 ferry. She felt strangely unconcerned. "And here's the Brooklyn. The towers are made of granite," said Raoul."Which one was built first?"

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1123689047184436202005-08-10T08:45:00.000-07:002005-08-10T08:50:47.193-07:00

Peggy could not believe how dark it was at 5:10 in the morning as she walked to the ferry. What had been blue, orange or purple sky before she left for her trip was now black except for an almost imperceptible glow from the East. A very light mist fell on her shoulders as she stepped onto the boat.Raoul was already in his seat, leaning with his back against the window, dressed in his

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1123600397702892722005-08-09T08:04:00.000-07:002005-08-09T08:13:17.713-07:00

We have come to a major milestone in the story of Peggy and Raoul, and now it's time to get serious about the Writing Contest. What are we going to do with these two? Is their relationship one that can flourish like the proverbial fruit on the vine, or will it whither away into a damp heap of old rhododendron blossoms?Before we tackle these questions, let's consider where we are in the story.

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1123513603776673162005-08-08T07:51:00.000-07:002005-08-08T08:06:45.306-07:00

(Continued from Part Forty-One. This concludes the Maine episode and the trip to the East Coast.)It was a quiet morning on Osprey Island in Maine. Taylor was in the shade of an ancient elderberry tree, busy with his sketch pad and charcoal pencils, producing a drawing of Raoul. He was doing this from memory, because Raoul himself was in the kitchen making blueberry brownies. Deidre was also

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1123262256359649782005-08-05T10:07:00.000-07:002005-08-05T10:17:36.373-07:00

(Continued from Part Forty)Peggy felt her heart beat slightly faster with each step. The trail up Cadillac Mountain in the Acadia National Forest had been kind in some spots: easy walking over flat expanses of granite, or pleasant strolling beneath shaded groves of birch trees. But those stretches would quickly give way to steep inclines studded with boulders and rocks of different sizes.

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1123088093553046892005-08-03T09:42:00.000-07:002005-08-03T09:54:53.560-07:00

(Continued from Part Thirty-Nine)"Could someone please explain what a crab roll is?" said Taylor.They were driving north on U.S. 1 in Maine, along Penobscot Bay. "It's kind of like a crab salad on a hot dog bun," said Deidre."What a perfect day," said Peggy. "Look how blue the water is.""It's perfect all right, we're getting a tour of all the scenic traffic jams between Brunswick and Bar Harbor

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1123000099752090882005-08-02T09:17:00.000-07:002005-08-02T09:28:19.763-07:00

"At last, a real hotel," said Raoul as they steered into the driveway of a Marriott in Brooklyn, New York. "Admit it, you've enjoyed all of our lodgings thus far," said Peggy. "True, but now we get an indoor pool, and a bar, and people racing to see who gets to serve us first."Peggy rolled her eyes. "You're going to be impossible after this."A uniformed attendant opened Raoul's car door.

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1122572368944761762005-07-28T10:32:00.000-07:002005-07-28T10:39:28.953-07:00

(CONCLUDED FROM PREVIOUS EPISODE)Upon hearing Deidre's question, Peggy recalled an evening she had spent at Raoul's house on Bainbridge Island. She had been invited to have dinner, and when she arrived the house was prepared as though for a party."Who else is coming?" Peggy asked."What do you mean?" said Raoul, looking puzzled."Is it just us?""Of course. But if you get tired of talking you are

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1122397823566381902005-07-26T10:02:00.000-07:002005-07-26T10:10:23.576-07:00

Peggy felt more apprehensive with each step. They were walking down Spruce Street in downtown Philadelphia, approaching Deidre's apartment. The street was shaded with tall leafy trees, and the coolness was a welcome break from the numbing heat and humidity of Washington, D.C. "Don't you love these old row houses?" Raoul was saying.Peggy noted the high windows and tall, narrow doorways and

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1122061437585091932005-07-22T12:34:00.000-07:002005-07-22T12:43:57.593-07:00

Hello Reader,Episodes of Peggy will be posted sporadically over the next two weeks. I will be traveling from D.C. to New England and will post when time and facilities permit. The next episode will most likely be available Tuesday or Wednesday and will cover at least the beginning of Peggy's road trip with Raoul to Philadelphia and Brooklyn. You never know what kind of jam they may find

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1121958294116028582005-07-21T07:56:00.000-07:002005-07-21T08:11:28.540-07:00

"Oh how lovely," said Marjorie as she and Peggy strolled down a quiet, tree-lined block of N Street in Washington, D.C."I love the neighborhood; it's mostly residential, and right in the middle of it is the Tabard Inn," said Peggy.They emerged from the shaded sidewalk and crossed the street toward the gray stone structure. The midday air was oppressively hot and bright. It was Wednesday.

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1121870382738880982005-07-20T07:25:00.000-07:002005-07-20T07:44:08.580-07:00

"Excuse me, sir. Could I ask you to take your seat please?" The woman in the green shirt spoke firmly to Raoul. She carried a two-way radio."I was trying to have a conversation," insisted Raoul."You are blocking the aisle, sir."Peggy motioned for Raoul to sit down. "I don't think the gentleman wants to be bothered at the moment."They were at R.F.K. Stadium in Washington, attending a baseball

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1121781285770518662005-07-19T06:49:00.000-07:002005-07-19T06:54:45.776-07:00

Peggy and Raoul quietly sipped their tea in the restaurant of the Tabard Inn. Raoul shuffled through the pages of the Washington Post."I hate to admit this, but I would love to hear what Kelly Flinn is saying about the Karl Rove case," said Raoul."He's probably wearing black," said Peggy.Raoul looked at his watch. "Norton should be here… oh, here he is."They looked up as a young dark-skinned

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1121693483381090202005-07-18T06:21:00.000-07:002005-07-18T06:31:23.393-07:00

Peggy landed at Washington National Airport at ten o'clock Thursday evening. The first sensation she experienced when she walked out of the terminal was intense heat and humidity; it shocked her with its heaviness."What's going on here?" she said to the Sikh taxi driver who loaded her bags into the trunk."What do you mean?""This heat, and humidity. It feels like a blanket.""Welcome to

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1121349492714654642005-07-14T06:50:00.000-07:002005-07-14T06:58:12.723-07:00

(This episode is continued from yesterday.)Peggy couldn't get Deidre out of her mind, even as she hurried to catch the 5:20, dragging a suitcase on wheels behind her. A canvas tote bag hanging from her shoulder contained her purse and other things she would want on her flight to Washington, D.C. She scolded herself for not taking a taxi to the ferry, and for worrying about Deidre.She stepped

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1121266355648181142005-07-13T07:50:00.000-07:002005-07-13T07:58:15.616-07:00

Peggy thought it was unusually dark as she made her way down to the ferry. Large gray clouds filled the sky from end to end."Does it seem dark to you?" Peggy asked Raoul as she took her seat on the 5:20 ferry. He was already joined by Kelly Flinn and Ferdinand."The days are getting shorter," said Raoul."But it's only July. I think it's just an overcast day," said Peggy."Do you know how you

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1121182793170150402005-07-12T08:28:00.000-07:002005-07-12T08:39:53.176-07:00

Peggy is a young woman of fifty-eight. While commuting on the ferry from Bainbridge Island to Seattle she meets Raoul, who is a few years older. They each live alone, having lost their respective spouses. Both have adult children who have moved away. He has one daughter, she has a son and a daughter. Peggy and Raoul share many interests: walking, gardening, music, food, just to name a few;

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com2