I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.
HEAD-SLAPS, SPEED-BUMPS and LIGHT-BULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.
They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
First week I was burning...a hundred pages in. Though I loved it something didn't feel right.
Bought Nathan Bransford's HOW TO WRITE A NOVEL within hours of it's debut. Spent the morning reading and BANG there it was. My point of view is wrong.
So...I'm into going from first to third person and loving how I can be such a know-it-all in the story.
Got back on the wagon yesterday changing the POV in what's already written, what a pain in the carpal tunnel that is, and I'm adding.
This morning I did a timeline. Yowsa ! Looks like what I've written will be a third of the whole.
Got to go to work now, damn it, but I feel so writery today.
110 pages 31,000 words.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
I may not be posting for awhile because I must focus on my column first and my third novel. But then again I may. Who knows what wonders lie beneath the leaves?
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
|Does this mean that all detritus is valued?|
Monday, October 7, 2013
She was hopeful.
How honest are you?
Thursday, October 3, 2013
More than a friend really she was a family member by marriage. She was 31 years old. I won’t go into how long she suffered and how she died because her blog explains it all, her hopes, her fears and the speedway leading to the end of her life. Her battle was long, and her outlook always hopeful, so it surprised us all even though we knew the end was coming.
She was a writer, an amazing writer, a writer who was able to dig deep, connect and crawl back out of the hole fate dug her, while holding onto our hands and showing us the way.