"The calm, rippling waves mirror the sky, which has deepened into a starlit indigo.  Fiction, more than any other art form, is liquid.  The writer’s pen does not dab or dapple or chisel the page; it does not whistle or thrum, but instead—like an icy river winding through soil and rock—it flows.  Letters are liquid ink dried on paper.  Words and sentences and stories have an ebb and a flow.  When writers write, their stories gush or stream from some wellspring deep beneath the surface of their conscious minds.  They channel the Muse."--Troy Ehlers "Hours of Indigo" (a work in progress). Although the book is not yet finished, early chapters inspired my friend Keith Demanche to create this cover for it. Keith is the Art Director for Minnetonka Review and a graphic designer who has created many book and CD covers.

"These are infinite moments, stretching between the day and the night.  When the sky turns indigo, you are not slave to the labors of the sun or the dreams of the moon.  Your freedom extends as far as your mind’s eye can see.  I believe that in the hours of indigo, fiction and reality mingle, marry, and unite like star-crossed lovers finding respite in a secret forest."  --Troy Ehlers, "Hours of Indigo" (a work in progress)

"The shoreline, too, was a testament to the ocean’s relentless fury, a wide jumble of boulders jutting from water and seaweed—stone so uniformly desert-colored, it seemed as if the entire expanse was one giant rock: savaged, slashed, and scarred by the seas." --Troy Ehlers, "Towering Sea" appearing in Quercus Review #7, 2007.

Tower was just up the hill. I was disappointed by its size. It was a squat, round structure of white stone, no bigger than a modest house. I had expected a dark, massive edifice—powerful, gothic, and foreboding. In my mind, I had always pictured it blocking out the sun, the earthly presence of a towering literary masterpiece. Ulysses began here; James Joyce had nearly been shot in his sleep here; such an amazing history for so modest a building." --Troy Ehlers, "Towering Sea" Quercus Review #7, 2007.

"We rested for a while, drifting beneath the sun and a few wispy clouds. The breeze was steady and the waves large enough to rock us. I thought Laura had fallen asleep. I found myself admiring the summer colors on shore. Green leaves, white and purple lilacs. Following the gray skies, bony trees, and white snow of winter and the lifeless yellow lawns of March, the deep blue waters and lush lawns were breathtaking. They made me feel I’d been colorblind. The thick woods around the lake were still greening; some of the trees retained the skeletal umber of fall, while baby lime green buds emerged from their branches. I considered how quickly the seasons could flower and fade. I worried that Laura could dissolve just as easily, stranding me in an emotional winter, colorless and empty of life. I had been there before, for ten long years. The frozen steppes of love."--Troy Ehlers, "A Storied Life" Beloit Fiction Journal, Summer 2006.