Gone With the Pen

Dear Reader,

Thank you for visiting my blog, despite the fact that new posts are few and far between. I apologize for the scarcity, but there is a reason, and it's because I have been writing for another outlet. Let me explain:

For the last two and a half years, I have been president of the Richmond Chapter of The Virginia Writers Club. I volunteered to lead because no one else would, and without a leader, the chapter would have disintegrated. Instead, under my leadership, we have grown by leaps and bounds. (Forgive my immodesty, but I have never led a group before and am pleased with the outcome.)

When I took over in January of 2023, I started writing a monthly newsletter to all the members, and I have been writing one ever since, which is the main reason this blog has been neglected. Also, my time has been and still is limited, because there are many responsibilities to running an organization. Minutes and hours are nibbled away, especially when thoughts are consumed with the next meeting, the next agenda, the next whatever.

This November, I will step down as president, and I will encourage (or force) someone else to be in charge, which means I will have more time for the thing I love -- writing stories -- the ones I must write, lest I risk melting into my shoes like the wicked witch in Munchkin Land. 

A new venture is on the horizon.

Lately, I have been experimenting with Substack, an outfit that emails newsletters automatically to your inbox. Substack is a nice place to write and has some advantages. One is that readers do not have to remember to check a blog for new posts. Every time a new one is written, it will magically appear in your email inbox, if you subscribe.

My Substack newsletter is free and without obligation. You can read without subscribing, I suppose, but I wish you would subscribe, because on Substack, it's all about subscribers. A link to my site is shown below, but if it doesn't work or you are hesitant to click a link, go to Substack.com and search for me, Mary Mobley, and my newsletter, Gone With the Pen. (Think Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh.)

Here is the link: Gone With the Pen by Mary Mobley

If you have been coming back to this blog, I appreciate your interest. While I am excited about trying a different venue, I will also keep this site, for it is as comfortable as an old friend, and I treasure my friends.

If you have any questions, please use the comment field below, or send me a message via Substack or X. Meanwhile, come see me at my new site, but only if you are a real person and not a robot. Robots are creepy.

Surviving the storms of life

 

    I found an old bucket in the woods and planted a mum in it. Over the years, the roots of this plant have been buried under snow, frozen in subzero temperatures, covered with ice and pummelled with rain. Yet, every spring, I see bits of green peeking through the soil, and it grows and thrives. 

    Last year it was leggy and about four-feet tall but still pretty and loaded with yellow blooms. This year, my beloved gave it some attention by pinching it back, and it is more beautiful than ever. 

    This flower is resilient; it perseveres; it survives every storm, no matter how severe, and comes out smelling like a mum. I want to be like this flower. I want to survive the storms, and after they pass over, I want to bloom again. I am not quite there yet, but maybe I will be, someday.

Social media isn't social: A Goodreads experience gone bad

I thought it might be fun to poke around on Goodreads where I could see reviews of potential good reads, and if the notion strikes, I could even share my thoughts about particular authors and their works. It seemed like a great idea, so I created a Goodreads account.

A few days later, I signed in, or attempted to, and received the following unfriendly message: