Hmmm, how do I begin? Just a few minutes ago I was lying in bed, and when I closed my eyes, I saw a video of a woman interacting with a green parrot. It lasted several seconds, then appeared to replay. It's not the first time it's happened.
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I've been thinking about creating audio versions for the Story of Q trilogy and came up with a possible AI voice. Of course, I had to make a few alterations to the text to make it flow better, then had to come up with creative spelling (phonetics) for the main character's nickname, Rache. The AI read it as "Ratch". Hmmm, so I tried Raych, but she still pronounced it the same. Ah, back to the drawing board. Finally, tried Raech. Bingo, that worked.
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Thanks to my dear high school friend, Barbara Smearman, I'm vigorously working on the spin-off book to my Story of Q series. Her colorful illustrations have given me the impetus to finish Tukaa's Tale and I'm hoping for a mid-summer release date and offer my sincere apologies to my readers for the long hiatus.
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Not only will the summer be "graced" by a canticle chorus of cicadas, but 2024 will see a double emergence of the short-lived insects. Huh?
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For the vast majority of my life, I was part of a culture that vigorously attempted to throw off the shackles of nomenclature. We wanted to be defined as human beings, who stressed their commonalities, instead of pointing to our differences. But it seems the tables have turned. Watch the news or a talk show, read the newspaper, or scroll through your favorite social media page, and you’ll see what I mean. We are no longer human beings but are strictly defined by a particular sub-group. When did we become so segregated?