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Writing Wendl...

I really did want to write a light-hearted tale in case this one turns out to be my last novel (assuming it yet becomes a novel), but it's headed currently toward the shadows. I thought I knew Wendl Von Trier pretty well, having trekked with him through my previous book, The Winged Child .   There, Wendl presents as an elusive solitary, moving above all worldly fray while at the same time nudging events and characters toward a satisfactory conclusion. Sharp and intimidating on the outside and tender and motherly on the inside. A friend to the world, something of a trickster, but in all things working for good outcomes.  That is how I saw Wendl VonTrier. A  púka, mischievous, but essentially harmless, even benevolent, capable of presenting in whatever form or gender the moment required. Wendl seemed the ideal candidate to carry readers off into the literary sunset in good spirits after an exhilarating romp through a fantastical fiction. But all along, it seems, there were depths to

Not yet...

Over the years, I've thought that I would be an old man at eighty, unlikely as it seemed I would ever reach that rarefied state of elderosity. Now with the big eight-oh only five days away, it hasn't happened yet.

Admittedly, I'm operating out of a somewhat battered and high-mileage body, but the days are just as welcome and enthralling as ever they were, and I still look forward to doing it all again tomorrow. Brief as mine is likely to be, I make plans for the future.

I may look old. Sometimes I even feel old. But old isn't where I'm living right now. Being young was a much bigger hindrance to getting my life done. In my present state of grace, nobody expects much of me or considers me dangerous, so I'm pretty much left alone to go my own way. 

The only people who take much notice of me at all anymore are those who love me. If this is being old, I'll take as much of it as I'm given.


Henry's books.


  1. To have achieved such a perfect and happy life is a great achievement . Enjoy the next twenty!!!

    1. Nobody's life is perfect, Meadow, but I am content with mine as it is. I'm glad it looks so good from where you are. A couple of days ago, A reader sent a message that I was writing too much "doom and gloom" here. It all depends on one's point of view, I reckon.

      I'm bound to issue a disclaimer in view of your comment, though: my life is more a matter of luck than achievement, but if you can give me twenty more, I'll take it.


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