Mark the day, Nov. 24, 2009. I find myself with thoughts and time to collect and even record them.

Fiction Daily has for two years been my constant writing companion as have you, dear readers. Since running for office I have neglected writing beyond my professional articles and the speeches and whatnot one must, and should, be able to offer when seeking to serve.

Indeed, campaign obligations made me a much better candidate, and today, official. Preparation for the many forums, interviews and presentations forced me to dig deep into laws, ordinances and budgets to talk about them somewhat intelligently. I feel a much better elected one for it.

In the meantime, WordPress has updated and the new dashboard is unfamiliar! I have thousands of spam comments! But how nice to be back in Fiction Dailyland.

For those coming late to the blog, I am a writer in Greenville, N.C., where I earlier this month was elected to serve as a representative on our City Council for District 3. I should take office on Dec. 7.

In the meantime, I work as a project manager, write articles and create marketing for clients. I am grateful to make a living as a writer.

For the past seven and a half years I’ve been writing a novel, as well. It started out as a short story, with this opening sentence:

August came as usual that year, but the tobacco trucks — with their tall mounds of honey-brown sheaves, the lingering sweet trails and the bumpity wheels of rickety old trucks going to the warehouses — did not.

That sentence opened a door I knew would take more than 5,000 words to walk through. Since writing that sentence in 2002, I have worked on and off. I’ve done character sketches, dwelt on names for my characters, outlined plots and chapters.

I sit to write and sometimes they come, but often these people remain shadows and cutouts, unable or unwilling to reach out with their true selves to me.

Nevertheless I have several hundred pages (most of which I’ll probably toss one day). I have several characters; a homeplace; a town; a villain; a love triangle; great tragedy.

Though ready to serve, no longer campaigning, I hope now to return to my novel, my life.

The working title is The Curing Season or A Cure for August.

A special shout-out to my friend Gene, who has been my constant friend and editorial rock, and whom I look forward to working with again on our various fiction (and fictional) pursuits.

So, to fiction!