Another quiet morning begins to take shape. It’s interesting to be considered retired while the inner self continues to work, despite the body’s new limits.
I’m usually up before the sun, watching it rise from my window. Too cold to sit outside.
I’m learning to move at a pace suited to both body and mind. Wheels often carry me now — a small, dependable scooter takes me outside — and though the view differs, imagination remains unchanged.
I write primarily for early readers, young and old, beginning their journey with the written word. My desire is to invite readers to want to keep reading. I aim for clarity and honesty, even within fiction.
Modern tools have become practical partners. Amazon. Kindle. Etsy. They serve as a simple conduit for my thoughts. I pay attention to cover art (or try to), layout, and keywords. Such details matter. Monotonous but part of the process.
Technology, for all its complexity, helps me remain independent. My phone holds drafts, maps, messages, and books. It enables full participation even when mobility requires adjustment.
I am not chasing recognition, or am I?
I seek connection — someone turning a page and entering a world that, until that moment, had never existed.
Small towns and career choices often appear in my work. Places where life moved steadily and relationships mattered (they still do). They remind me that meaning often lives in the familiar.
My pace might have changed, but the work endures. I still begin each morning with purpose, and it feels like enough.
Selected essays, short works, and publications: bayliss.com
