The reading at Allegory Gallery turned out very well. Besides myself, Amy Yanity, local poet and originator of these particular readings, read from her own work. So did Joanne Mcgough, Jan McLaughlin and Diane Cipa. There was wine and pastries and we all had fun.

The event got me to thinking. There are a number of events in the area held for and by area writers that are not well known, sometimes even among writers. I am aware of only some of them and a quick check with a few of my writing friends turned up a surprising list. Perhaps the most well known group is the Ligonier Valley Writers, which was started a number of years ago by Clark McKowan, who has since moved to California. I am aware of this group because Clark was the first person to give me encouragement in writing and the Ligonier Valley Writers was the first writing group I joined. Another local group is the Beanery Writers, a group that meets in the Coffee Bean Café in Latrobe. I currently belong to that group. Other than those two groups, I understand there are groups located in Latrobe, Somerset, Greensburg, Scottdale, Murrysville and Delmont.

The above is by no means a detailed or complete list and other than writing groups themselves there are events that cater to writers and musicians. One of these is the event I mentioned in the beginning of this piece and which is held at allegory Gallery on the last Thursday of each month. Another is Mellow Mike, held at Ligonier Tavern every Tuesday. Mellow Mike is hosted by Diane Cipa and features local writers, poets, songwriters and musicians. There are other similar events in this area.

I’m going to be doing a bit of searching around to gather more information on other happenings and additional writers’ groups in Ligonier and nearby areas and I will write a bit more about each of them from time to time. There is a lot of talent in Ligonier and surrounding areas. It’s about time this fact becomes a lot better known. Altogether these events provide a rich artistic resource of which we can all be very proud.

Reading my work in public is something towards which I am not naturally inclined. In fact, a few years ago I avoided anything of the kind with a firm resolve. I’m still not fond of it, but I have come to accept it. Why, I’m not sure. A lot of it has to do with practice and learning not to be too self-conscious. And, to my surprise, I’m beginning to have fun with it.

Anyway, I’m doing some reading of my work this Thursday evening at Allegory Gallery in Ligonier. Allegory Gallery is located at 139 East Main Street, in the same building with Second Chapter Books. Amy Yanity, a local author, has arranged to have readings as an event there on the third Thursday of every month. It’s a new event for Ligonier and I think it’s really interesting. The sessions started a few months ago. I’ve attended every one so far and I’ve learned something each time.

Any writer is welcome at these sessions. It’s fun to listen to the different genres—prose, poetry, song writing and the different styles of each. A number of writers attend every session so one can’t tell what one will find happening on any given evening. Come out and give a listen. I think you will find the sessions entertaining. It’s a new tradition starting in Ligonier and one that I hope will grow and prosper.

The first thing that anyone sees when he or she sits down to write is a Blank Page. It may be on a computer screen, a fresh, yellow legal pad or the final pages of a worn journal. It doesn’t matter. It is still a blank page and that can be a terrifying thing. There are no guidelines, no map. Where does one start? It is true that the great expanse of white can be exhilarating—there are no restrictions and the possibility that the creation of wondrous and inspiring compositions lie hidden on the page, but that in itself can be intimidating. I once had an art instructor who said that in a blank canvas there is 100% potential. Put one mark on that surface and you have decreased the potential by fifty percent. That thought can put a crimp in your style.

At its worst, the Blank Page can bring on the other dreaded nemesis—Writer’s Block. I can’t say that I am habitually troubled by that malady but there have been times that the words have been slow in coming. And there are times when I’ve tried some roundabout ways to bring inspiration: deep thought, meditation, prayer—tea. Sometimes one thing works, sometimes another. That reminds me of a time many years ago when I heard a springtime talk by a member of the PA Game Commission. The subject was the effectiveness of folk remedies for garden pests. The remedies are numerous and inventive—pepper, garlic, beer. The question was, “Do they work?” The speaker gave the following opinion, which impressed me and I state here as best I can remember it: “You must be aware that each animal is an individual and one individual does not like and dislike the same things as another. Sometimes one thing works and sometimes something else. If you’re bothered by a critter and try one of the remedies and it works, don’t question it. Just use it.”

Stories and poems are much like the critters. Sometimes one thing draws them to the page, sometimes another. I have not found a foolproof way of attracting them with any consistency. At times I find that in order to write I must simply begin writing. I make a joke of it by saying that if you have writer’s block then write about having writer’s block. It’s really not a joke. That’s a fascinating subject. What is writer’s block? What does it feel like to have it? What do you do about it? Does that work? That could be a very interesting and funny piece—or tragic if you are so inclined and are totally serious about it. And maybe that’s one of the secrets—DON’T be too serious about it. Writing should be enjoyable—fun.

One of the best things that I have found is to not try to work on my schedule but to listen to the Muse when she speaks. Sometimes that is in the middle of the night. I keep a pad and pen in my bedside table and when ideas come, in dreams or in the moments that occur between sleep and wakefulness, I jot them down. Those notes, sketchy as they sometimes are, can later be the start of many pages of text.

So there isn’t any formula, any standard method of approaching the Blank Page. The best thing to do is simply to write. Don’t be scared. Don’t worry about it. Just write—about anything. Every subject is fascinating—if you allow it to be.

There is a saying that the only constant thing in life is change. The older I get the more I think that is true. Perhaps that’s the universe’s way of seeing that we don’t get bored. But then, boredom is often replaced by other emotions that are less welcome. From all of this, however, we seem to manage to learn something.

I remember years ago having a friend who was very much into computers. He was working with artificial intelligence and was doing research at what is now Carnegie Mellon University. He tried to explain to me many times the virtues and advantages of computers. I didn’t listen very well. “I’ll never use a computer,” I told him. How wrong I was about that. My change came not too many years after those conversations. I acquired a computer and really became a fan when I began to use it at income tax time. My wife and I had a small business and for years I did the accounts in pen and ink. We were busy with the business spring, summer and fall and I became lax in keeping up with daily accounts. Both my wife and I simply kept receipts of purchases made, material acquired, etc. in no particular order. When income tax time came I made a crash effort to get the books in order. I would neatly itemize months of transactions and then invariably my wife would come in with a whole new batch of receipts. “I forgot these,” she would say and hand me items that had to be entered into three or four or more months’ records. When I acquired a computer and became familiar with spreadsheets that automatically inserted items in chronological order I became convinced that the computer was a necessity and, moreover, my friend.

My change to a computer was voluntary on my part, but some changes I have experienced were not. They were imposed on me and many were not to my liking. And yet I cannot say that, in the long run, they turned out to be totally negative. They always proved to be of benefit when I accepted them and allowed them to be part of my life. I have come to believe that changes that we elect to bring into our lives, if well thought out, improve our lives. Changes that are imposed upon us by the universe, if properly accepted and even welcomed, improve our souls.

I’ve been putting off my gardening. That wasn’t a matter of choice. The warm weather we’ve been having for some weeks has been conducive to getting out and putting seeds in the ground. In some ways I thought that somewhat premature so I held off and, lo and behold, we did get a late snow. Some people, I understand, lost a portion of their gardens because of that. I didn’t. I didn’t have any garden to lose. But the last few weeks I really wanted to get started on planting and then everything began interfering with that—more important things, deadlines, meetings, rain. But last weekend it was nice weather, a bit hot, but nice, and I set aside time to work outside.

The final impetus for planting occurred Saturday a week ago. My son, Joe, came down for my book signing and he brought me a present, two raised bed garden frames. The lot on which I live is very wet and I have been intending to try raised beds to avoid having to plant only rice. I intended to build my own frames and had scheduled a trip to the lumber store to buy material. The book signing took priority, however. I’ll take care of getting material right after the book signing, I vowed to myself. And then Joe showed up with the raised bed kits, two double frames approximately 4’x 8’ each. Serendipity.

I undertook the assembly of the kits last Saturday. It was a hot day—approaching 90 degrees—and I knew I’d have to take it easy. I did that, working for an hour or so and then taking a break. I worked that way all day and I surprised myself by getting both frames assembled and filled with dirt, ready for planting. Moreover, I felt pretty good. No exhaustion as had been known to occur on other days requiring physical labor and as a bonus I got some other projects completed.

Now I’m really enthused. This summer I’d like to have: a successful, if small, garden; more herbs; an area with ground cover and a few stepping stones and maybe a bench; and a rain garden to utilize the natural wetness of this location. I’d also like to transplant a few things, plants that are really nice but simply located in the wrong places. Maybe that’s a bit ambitious for me. We’ll see.

The book signing for “The Finding of the Blue Feather” was held Saturday afternoon. Thanks to all of you who came to make it a success.

Book signings are a lot of fun for me. That’s a change. A few years ago I was in mortal fear of any sort of public appearance in which I had to have any part, no matter how small. What changed that situation I’m really not sure. Some of it was practice—just getting out and doing it, but a bigger part, I believe, was a change of attitude. I’m a bit less self-conscious, a bit less serious, a bit more willing to let the whole affair be fun. Where did that come from? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a natural part of growing old.

Anyhow, the book signing was fun—and enlightening too. To prepare for it, I had to go over the book and select readings from it to give people a sense of what the story line was and who the characters were. That gave me a chance to re-introduce myself to the book and, as a consequence, see it in a new light. I found things in it I had not noticed before. I had my Pennycat books there, too, and read a few selections from them and had a chance to revisit every one of them.

When I finish a project, lay it aside and move on to something new, I put all my energy in the new endeavor and tend to forget about the old one. When I again pick up the old project it’s, in many ways, like seeing it for the first time. The best part of that is it starts me thinking, giving me ideas. I think of other ways I could have done the old project and how I can better do the new one. It sometimes starts me thinking about a continuation to the old project—a sequel. A poet once said something to the effect that a poem is never finished; it is simply abandoned. I think that is true of any form of writing as it is true about any phase of life. Life never ceases. A book never does, either. There is always more to be said. The only choice to be made has to do with how that is done and the merits of the various ways of doing so.

So at the book signing I sign the book. I use the signature to mark the end of that book, the finish of one project, of one phase of life, and then move on to a new one, or to a continuation of the old in a brand new form, whatever is the course that is calling.

BOOK SIGNING

I’m having a book signing this coming weekend. It will be held at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Ligonier Valley, which is located at 1724 Route 30, just east of the town of Ligonier. For those familiar with Ligonier, it is the first large building past Ligonier Beach.

The signing is for release of the first volume of my book “The Finding of the Blue Feather – A Trilogy.” “Feather,” as I call it, can be labeled a fantasy but it is more than that. It is the story of a land—a dream world—where the people possess psychic powers that we in this world glimpse only occasionally in our fellow humans. What would life in such a dream world be like? What would happen if a person from our world were transported to this strange psychic “dream world”?

This first volume, titled “Once Upon A Time in Reality,” takes on the task of exploring just such a happening. Two other volumes, “Back to Reality” and “Beyond Reality,” both finished but not yet ready for publication, further explore the two worlds and the dangers and benefits of their contrasting life styles.

The book signing will take place from 1:00 to 3:00 PM. There will be “munchies,” copies of my previously published book, “A Matter of Time,” and also a selection of my own Pennycat Books, which is now expanded to eight titles, including the latest—“Jeremy Willikins’ Adventures in the Land of Little.” You’ll hear, too, about my plans for my next book, which is really a dream because it exists, as yet, only in my mind.

I hope to see you next Saturday.