If I Build It, Will Anyone Read It?

Due to little action on my part to encourage anyone to visit my website, I have an answer to the title question!! Not many!

Part of the reason for my inaction was a bout of illness back in the winter. Am doing very well now, but took a while to get energy and interest to a level to do more work on it. Except I did fix some links to the books information page which DID NOT WORK! Horrors!

So why haven't I updated this page, you ask. For one thing, I'm getting older, as bad as I hate to admit it. I'd prefer to stay the young side of that picture that used to make the rounds, was it a .gif? Or called something else? When you passed the cursor over it, the picture changed from a young and beautiful woman to an old hag. Not that I'm admitting to being an old hag, you understand!

As I said before, a long time ago I fell in love with HTML coding. It felt like magic to me, type a few characters, more likely, a LOT of characters on a computer screen, save it (oops, forgot to save it, too bad, do over!) then open it in the computer browser and, abra ca dabra, a page which looked approximately how you wanted it to look. But not nearly as good as you thought. Back to the coding program, more work. Apparently a little of the magic has worn off for me, as magic tends to do! But I still love the coding when I get to it.

I changed the picture of the old steam engine train on the sidebar to a YouTube link to a favorite song about that era. I've loved the song for all my life, as done by all the recording artists who have recorded it, I think. When I was a child my family would 'go to town' on a Saturday, farm work had to be done during the week. We rode over eight unpaved miles of muddy road (Hey, that's the name of my memoir, Eight Miles of Muddy Road!) in a farm wagon pulled by two strong mules. The name of the town was Temple and railroad tracks ran through the middle of it. The track is still there, but with far less traffic than when I was a child. And NO steam engines, which made conversation impossible until the long tail of boxcars and clouds of coal smoke had passed through the town.

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Sylvia's dream writing space!

I really did used to dream of having a small building in my back yard dedicated to my writing. A place where I could sit and write. Watch the birds. Listen to the rain. Burn up the computer keys when that idea for the great American novel struck me like lightning. As you may have guessed, it didn't happen. But I have managed to produce a dozen or so books of varying lengths and subjects. Mostly mysteries, my favorite genre.


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