This is a tough day.  None of us living today will forget 11 September 2001 (a.k.a. 9/11) nor should we.  Here’s a[1] link for those wanting a memory jolt.

Speaking of memory jolts.  A B-52 warrior passed me some of the last pictures of Balls-34 (60-034).  It was taken to final parking at the Bone Yard back on 14 Aug.

[2] [3] [4] [5]

[6] [7] [8]

Wisdom is acquired through experience.   More often than not, wisdom is obtained through mistakes rather than through  well-executed, perfect plans.  We’ve all become the wiser when we’ve discovered the stove was hot, a bee stings, ice-covered steps are slick, the dog bites, not everyone is your friend, and good intentions only carry you so far.

Some of us have learned that min-fuel really means min-fuel, there’s a good reason we don’t do overheads in a Buff, and if you can finish your Air Force career without being passed-over or fired–you weren’t just lucky–you had very some powerful friends.

I’m glad that along the way I’ve had friends like you to fly, fight, and win with.  Today I fight more with getting my belt buckled, shoes tied, and finding time to write.

Writing a novel is different from writing doctrine, Combat Crew articles, or even telling a story.  I discovered that my skills were woefully under-developed–so I’m still working on them.

I’m taking an advanced writers course with a talented, local writer (Connie Cox) and it helps.  Here’s a quick story before I end this short post.

Two nights ago, Connie gave our small group some advanced tactics of word-smithing.  I applied it to the first page of my manuscript–keep in mind that this is my 25th rewrite and two rewrites ago I won third prize in the Amazon dot com Break Through Novel Award– when I was done I had 13 edits to the first 12 lines of my novel.

I’m just an old crew dawg learning new tricks everyday.

Eventually I’ll have something to interest an editor.

I hope to have my first novel published before I make my way to the Bone-Yard for old bomber pilots.  I’m thinking 2009 is going to be a very special year–lipstick or not.

What say ye?