I'm a writer from way, way back (not quite as far back as the sinking of the Titanic. But I remember gas lights.) Diverted to writing for the corporate world--I hadn't realized I would have to write fantasy--I put the real creative writing in a dim dark part of my mind for years. Now I'm back. There are five novels in various stages of editing. 

Smoky Joe sitting as if butter wouldn't melt in the photo...is the latest escapee from the animal shelter. He's the only male amongst three females and thinks he's hit the jackpot. Uh, uh! I think they have his number. 

At the moment I'm agonizing over writing a query letter to agents. I'm told that none of the major publishing houses will look at your work without it going through an agent. Darn, they keep building these walls writers must constantly scramble over.

It's great to 'talk' with other writers, the deer at the bird feeders are terrible communicators.