As I’ve written before in this blog, I write first drafts of fiction by longhand, so that means if I’m not writing in my outdoor office down beside the Alabama River (where snakes can fall out of trees right behind me—see an earlier post), I’m sitting in my actual office at a desk that doesn’t play home to a computer. Well, technically, it’s not a desk; it’s an old, somewhat small, dining room table with the leaves removed (and if you don’t know what I mean by “leaves,” maybe ask your grandmother). I tend to keep a very tidy office (okay, I keep everything neat and organized because clutter is where the devil lives), and my desk is a mostly bare surface, save for a lamp, a small globe, a telescope that is also somewhat small, and a few framed quotes by writers. Well, one of the quotes is not from a writer but a football coach. Maybe you can guess who that coach is. The globe was a gift from my wife, Rhonda, who placed [...]