Crazy, but awesome day…

Besides hilarious mishaps with almost every automobile in the immediate family that resulted in exploding tires and then an encore of an exploding spare tire on a busy highway… I realized I survived for two reasons. Family and friends you guess? Hah… not so, says I! I survived because… first and foremost, I continue to be a source of incredibly cheap entertainment for God! For another reason? I needed to be alive to receive a response from someone who I have been waiting patiently to hear from since early December! As you know, if you have read any of the peripheral information about Brownstone Literary Works, I work closely with CCIRI (Cold Case Investigative Research Institute/Bauder College) on cases of particular interest to me. During a CCIRI award ceremony I was present for, in regards to my research and book on Moores Ford Bridge–The Danburg Diary (See for more information. Those involved in that research for CCIRI remember me as the “J” woman.) I was finally introduced to two very gifted and intelligent people who I hope will be of great help to me in solving this current case.

One is a forensic psychologist and the other a psychic. After a wonderful talk with one of the two, I was able to set and confirm a date for a reading. It is very interesting how this all happened. An aside note: My personal belief is that God places people in our paths at the direct hour of our necessity. I have been trying to outline and research this case for months in between my real job and in doing so, found a lack of clarity in my path. At first I was concerned that it might be the famous writer’s block we all hear tell of, but no…That makes little sense as I tend to vomit in ink on a daily basis. I decided it was for a much more important reason. The delay was not in me, but in the character. And since this is based on a real individual, I realized the delay was his—the deceased. There was something or someone that needed to be introduced to me before he could find his voice through me. Being a firm believer that if a story refuses to tell itself, it is for one of two empirical reasons. Either someone is not ready to tell it, or someone is not ready to have it heard! Now on the face of the thing, you might say aren’t they one in the same? The answer is… No, they are not. A story is the life of a character who is allowing a writer to channel his autobiography and until consent is granted by the character… nothing moves ahead. Charley was not talking to me and it bothered me. Was I an unfit vessel for such a thing, I wondered. And yet, after all these years… had not the stars aligned just so, to place us all in each other’s paths in an attempt to elicit such results? Once I had decided that it became tolerable. I was listening, but he wasn’t speaking. I picked up the proverbial pen many times and yet he refused to speak and I did not understand why until I met these two people. I have an appointment at the end of this month with them and I cannot tell you how enthralled I am to find momentum once again to this project. Through the insights of these two, I am certain I will find my path and his pain and know what direction the winds will carry us both.
Till tomorrow then…

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