It was just after 8:30 a.m. on February 1, 2020.
I was number fifteen or twenty in a line of nearly a hundred local authors. Dragging our supply of books behind us like proud parents ready to push our kids on stage, we snaked outside a side entrance to the Scottsdale Public Library at Civic Center Plaza.
As Tom and I waited for the doors to open at 9 a.m. to set up my table for the Local Author Book Sale, I felt anticipation filter through the cool desert air. It was a moment I cherished, but not as much as I should have.
An hour later, my table was set with my three books in front of me. I brought a sign-up sheet, so readers could provide their contact information. I wanted to keep in touch, so I could tell them when book four was published.
At that moment, like most of the world, I was naive, ignorant or unaware. Call it what you like. I didn’t imagine such in-person opportunities would be stripped away by a pandemic for two years and counting.
Through it all, the losses have accumulated for all of us, and I’ve been missing you.
Our library has no immediate plans to reinstitute events of this sort. I understand they’ve cut staff. There have been a few online programs to keep patrons informed of local literary happenings, but nothing can replace actual human interaction.
I’ve been dreading writing about this. But I need to. The pandemic has hit all of us–young and old–hard. It’s sucked the life out of our passions. I’m angry that so many people are opposed to vaccinations and have not taken the proper steps to protect themselves and society. This poor judgment has prolonged the agony of lives lost and hollowed out.
It’s true, I am fortunate to have this platform to air my grievances. For now, I will continue to blog, but I’ve been questioning my commitment to this page lately.
It is common for all of us writers to have doubts. I appreciate those of you who follow this page and comment regularly. I’m not sure which creative path to take at this point, but I know I need something more … something that’s missing.
Mark Johnson Stories 
I spent an hour this morning starting an essay about the attrition I’m seeing in my blogging circle and how I’m trying to find new bloggers to connect with. I don’t think it’s the overall point of the essay, but it’s the part that’s come out so far. That’s too bad about your library. We’ve mostly reinstated all of our in person events. A couple of mixers have been postponed, but we’re going ‘all in’ on our June Funfest celebration–a multi-thousand person celebration of all things library. I hope your library gets back on line soon. Maybe instead of blogging maybe you could join a writers’ group? That way you can still share and converse about your work and also get valuable feedback on your principal projects.
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Thank you, Jeff. I commend you for maintaining your blog and actively interacting with other bloggers like me. I was in a virtual writing group for six months last year. It was okay for a while, but really didn’t meet my needs. I still like the idea though of seeking involvement in a new one. I appreciate your support!
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I support you Mark! I too have a feeling of missing out on parts of life and am trying to make the most of the good things. Like yoga and yoga friends.
On Tue, Feb 1, 2022, 8:43 AM Mark Johnson Stories wrote:
> Mark Johnson posted: ” It was just after 8:30 a.m. on February 1, 2020. I > was number fifteen or twenty in a line of nearly a hundred local authors. > Dragging our supply of books behind us like proud parents ready to push our > kids on stage, we snaked outside a side entrance t” >
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Thank you for your continued support, Carol. It’s been a really tough few years in the world. Our yoga friendship certainly has helped to pull us through.
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We need to find more book fairs and public readings for you.
Don’t stop writing as long as you have things to say.
You are a great writer and it is something you need to do.
In time, you’ll have opportunities to promote your creativity to interested others!
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Thank you, Tom. Your support means so much to me!
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