in another life, I was a university professor. I wrote books about language and discrimination issues, and my work was well received. For the most part that is all behind me now, but every once in a while my past catches up with me. I spent Thursday and Friday writing an expert opinion for a Title VII language-focused discrimination case, which felt very odd but interesting. I did it because I felt like I couldn’t not do it.
Just before I started this project on Thursday, I sent off two things I had promised my agent: the first three chapters of the contemporary novel (tentatively entitled Tied to the Tracks) and a children’s book I have been writing, off and on, for the last year. A short thing, really, but it was fun to do. Don’t know if it will ever sell, of course. It’s called Puppy Boys.
So now I have to get back to work. While I was hammering away at linguistics, the odd thought did pop into my head. Or maybe I should say the odd character: Lily showed up to tell me something obvious I had been overlooking. It was actually a great surprise and relief and quite amusing, too.
Lily is a young woman at this pointl. She is a great deal like her mother, but she doesn’t know that yet. In matters of the heart, her life is looking very different so far than her mother’s ever did.