• Cynthia Dagnal-Myron

Our Last Hurrahs...


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It's just...such a strange, strange time in America.


So I've been indulging myself. Writing and writing and writing--and trying new platforms, beyond Wattpad and Medium et al. There's a "serial story" boom happening out there. Even Amazon has Vella now, where you can post a novel one chapter at a time--and get paid and/or published for it, too.


I'm intrigued and testing the waters. Putting my work out there to see which platforms perform best for me. Finding new places to play--playing has become very important.


I'm just immersing myself in the gifts I have and have received and trying not to be deterred or depressed by the feeling that my country is about to stop being my country, the country I thought it was in, oh...three years or so. No matter who runs for president.


It's no longer about Trump. It's about people who needed a Trump to say what they wanted to say. Do what they wanted to do.


And what they're up to scares the hell--and most of the hope--out of me.


So I'm running through my "bucket list" before the jack boots march.


I wish I were kidding, but I really feel that way. Like these are my "last hurrahs" before some sort of huge, horrendous plunge into a totalitarian void that may silence my voice. Lots of voices. And much more...


It seems to be that time in the world--not just here, but everywhere. And we seem powerless to stop it coming.


So I am throwing myself a "going away" party. Indulging fantasies. Letting new ones surface and be fulfilled.


There is no time like the present. Because there's...so little time left...


It's time to party like it's...2024. The night before the second and perhaps final election from Hell.


Do everything you've wanted to do, but haven't. NOW.


I'm off to finish that latest chapter--I promise not to be such a buzz kill next time...


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