As the days pass, the number of leaves turning color and falling have gone from a trickle, to a mass exodus from trees. Unlike in Scotland, where the fallen leaves almost immediately begin to decay, we’re seeing them remain crisp and crunchy, ready to be raked up. What a difference!
I’ve been recording and watching numerous college football games. One of my favorite teams is the Michigan Wolverines, who aren’t doing too good. Last year at this time they were 10-0. Right now, they’re 5-5. Oh well! At least the Lions are roaring through the opposition in the National Football League. Right now, they’re top of their division with a 7-1 record. Long may it last!
“I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.” Ernest Hemingway. Compliments of https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/32-inspirational-hemingway-quotes-to-get-you-writing.
So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on November 10th, the second Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).
Martin Luther, German theologian and key figure in the Protestant Reformation; Laurentius Paulinus Gothus, Swedish theologian and astronomer; acob Cats [Father Cats], Dutch grand pensionary and poet (Houwelyck); Anne “Ninon” de l’Enclos, French patron of the arts, courtesan and writer; Oliver Goldsmith, Irish novelist and dramatist (She Stoops to Conquer); Frederich von Schiller, German poet and lyricist (Ode to Joy); Vladimir Dal, Russian lexicographer (Explanatory Dictionary of the Living Great Russian Language); Dobri Voynikov, Bulgarian teacher, playwright and journalist (The Phoney Civilization); Jose Hernandez, Argentine poet (MartinFierro); Henry Eyster Jacobs, American Lutheran theologian; Winston Churchill, American author (Crisis, Crossing); Nicholas Vachel Lindsay, American poet (Gen William Booth enters Heaven); Patrick Pearse, Irish poet, nationalist and political activist; Aart A. van Schelven, Dutch church historian (Willem of Orange); Jan van Nijlen, Flemish poet and author (Bird Phoenix); Arnold Zweig, German Jewish anti-fascist and author (Erziehung vor Verdun; Der große Krieg der weißen Männer); ohn P. Marquand, American writer (The Late George Apley); Murk Daniel Ozinga, Dutch art historian (Monuments of Curacao); John Moore, English author (Portrait of Elmbury, Brensham Village and The Blue Field); Paweł Jasienica, Polish historian; Álvaro Cunhal, Portuguese writer and politician (Communist Party Secretary-General, 1961-92; Assembly Member, 1976-87); Oda Blinder [Yolanda Corsen], Curaçao-Dutch poet (Doorstep); Russell Means, Native American activist, actor, writer, and musician; Debra Hill, American screenwriter and film producer (Escape from New York); James Chapman, American novelist (Stet); Neil Gaiman, English writer of graphic novels, films and fiction (American Gods, The Graveyard Book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane); Magnús Scheving, Icelandic athlete, writer and producer (LazyTown); and Sean Hughes, Irish stand-up comedian, writer and actor.
Any names familiar to you? There was one for me this week: Martin Luther. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!
My Work In Progress
Work is moving along on Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 Chapter thirty-nine was completed and posted to 
the two online subscription writing sites I use. Since my last blog post, the story has received another twelve chapter reviews, bringing the total to 578.
Here’s another snippet:
Yusuf sat behind the wheel of the late model Toyota Landcruiser. White with black trim, it blended in well with other vehicles on the road.
“When will we arrive?” Prince Sami stared out the backseat window, studying the sparse vehicles and pedestrians as they rushed along the highway. He was a thin, short man with a high-pitched, reedy voice. As with most Saudis, he wore a white thobe. A ghutra, a white and red checked headdress with a double black cord known as an agal, covered his head.
Yusuf glanced at Wazir, sitting in the front passenger seat.
Both men rolled their eyes but remained silent.
“Yusuf—when will we get to Sana’a?”
“Sorry, Prince Sami. I didn’t hear you. It will take about five hours—longer if you want to stop and eat on the way. Of course, it will depend on how many checkpoints we come across. Our first stop for food and fuel will be in Lahej if you are hungry. It is only forty-five kilometers from Aden. Otherwise, I suggest we wait until we reach Al Milah, about ninety kilometers.”
“How long will it take before we arrive in Al Milah?”
“About two hours, Prince Sami. But it would be a better place to refuel and eat.”
“Do it.” He closed his eyes.
“Of course, Prince Sami.”
Yusuf gripped the steering wheel tighter as he accelerated around two slow-moving trucks.
When they headed out of Aden, the number of dwellings and shops diminished. The occasional business with farm machinery and broken-down vehicles lined some of the road, while sparse vegetation and vast swathes of sand became the prominent sights.
They continued along the road, with the men apparently lost in their own thoughts.
As they approached Lahej, Yusuf stomped on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a halt.
Prince Sami grabbed the back of Yusuf’s seat. “What—what is the problem?”
“Ahead—checkpoint.”
“Can we go around it?”
“No, Prince Sami. Any deviation from the road will be suspicious. Most of the guards at the checkpoints just ask questions.” Yusuf yanked an envelope stuffed with money from above the visor. “Let us see what they want.”
Yusuf changed gears as the vehicle in front of them moved forward. With a lurch, the Landcruiser rocked as Yusuf drove over some rocks placed on the road as an impediment.
When their turn came, Yusuf stopped near two soldiers.
One of them stepped to the window while the other remained in position, his AK-47 pointed at Yusuf.
The one who stepped forward stared at Yusuf. “Where you come from?”
“Aden.”
“Where you go?”
“Sana’a.” He gestured over his shoulder at Prince Sami. “We are taking this important visitor to meet with his brother.”
The man frowned before holding out a hand.
Yusuf smiled as he slid several Yemeni rial notes from the envelope and handed them over.
The man counted the money and smiled. “You may go.”
Yusuf nodded. Once again, the vehicle lurched as he put it in gear, and they continued their journey.
Once they gained some space from the checkpoint, Yusuf slowed. “See, Prince Sami? No problem.” Yusuf picked up speed. “We should be near Al Milah in about forty-five minutes.”
“Good. I am ready to eat.”
More next time.
During the past week, I also finished editing chapters 8-10 of The Great Rebellion, and sent them to my co-author for review. I won’t be posting the cover or any of the chapters here, per the desires of my co-author.
Once the first draft of Mission: Yemen is completed, I’ll begin work on Vendetta, the sixth novel in my Bedlam series. More of this later.
This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.
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