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 LIGHTBULBS, 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, July 13, 2017

Dead eye word count

I realized this morning how odd it is to not have a deadline.

Few words mean much.
In my life I have never liked deadlines, never liked anything hanging over my head, weighting down my shoulders, always there and waiting. For now, coming up with a new column, something fresh, something which I consider universal enough to share with readers, is off the table.
I will admit:
To singularly focus on a project, to fine tune the tunable, to dead eye the result, is inspiring.
I had to give up something, to get something. Isn't that always the way, especially when we write.

So I ask my few faithful friends, what do/did you have to give up in order to make your word count?

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

My book came back from the editor.

Looks like a roadmap to the obscure. She said nice things, encouraging things, things which make me feel as if I’m on the right track.

But my head…a bucket of rocks.

Lots of stones, pebbles and grains of sand, all sharing the same space and settling for position.

Yup, hard headed and eager to shift the load. Foundation is built, time to chink the cracks.