Prospero-1

All the posts from this one down (earlier in time) are from my old blog on My Opera. That blog was originally called Pat Maginess Private-Eye. It was intended as a dump for my private-eye fiction. But it quickly became more than that, some might say much more than that. Finally, last Spring, due to the amount of fiction that I had on the blog that was not the Pat Maginess fiction, not to mention non-fiction posts, I changed the name of the blog to Edward Piercy: Collected Fiction Etc.

As of March 1, 2014 the My Opera site will be history. And with it, all of the blogs that so many people have worked on over the years. It is a sad thing. But I do have to give the Earthly Powers at Opera credit not only for giving us a good number of months notice, but of setting up a way of transferring our blogs to other platforms such as here on WordPress.

And so the great migration begins. It is my hope that I will see many of my old Opera blog friends here on this site where we may all remain together. The Opera community was a great one. But in my view there is no reason that we cannot rebuild that community here on WordPress. It’s not the place, it’s the people.

One thing about change is that it gives us an opportunity to make new starts occasionally, to perhaps explore new paths. As such I am bifurcating my Opera blog into two blogs here on WordPress. This is one of them. This will be the repository of what manages to come through of the older blog, although to be honest I have no idea just how intact it will be. Much may be lost — embedded links certainly, and perhaps some photos as well. There is nothing to be done about that.

In addition I am starting another blog for the new fiction that I have been doing called Nouvelle Ecriture. I will try to put a link for it somewhere here on the main page, once I learn how to do it.

Lastly, I thought it might be time to change the blog title once again in order to reflect the new and the old combined. And I couldn’t imagine a better one than this one:

“These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”

— The Tempest, IV.i.

All endings must bring new beginnings; at least until that final ending, that final beginning, when we finally leave this earth. Until then, I will do my best to keep “my staff and my book.”

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