Orange is the new book cover

Figured I'd do a third novel update just to keep things on track. I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks, family obligations got in the way, family first, what a concept.
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.

http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2013/10/how-to-write-novel-47-rules-for-writing.html

The wisdom of my journey

I borrowed this quote from a woman who knew all the rules and wrote the book on grace.

In the end only three things matter:

How much you are loved, how gently you have lived, and how gracefully you let go of the things not meant for you.   Budda

In today’s society we race toward what we think we want. After a lifetime of laps I have realized that all along, what I wanted was sitting in the stands cheering me on. Stopping short of the finish line does not define failure, continuing the race for the sake of the race does. I’m not saying give up, give in, don’t try, I am saying run, just as fast as you can but enjoy the process of each footfall because, one step in front of the other, may be all you have.

When time is limited, and it is, shouldn’t we pick and choose, sweet instead of bitter?

Shouldn’t we spend our days gathering fulfillment instead of dissatisfaction, practicing grace instead of ire and patience instead of irritation. Shouldn’t dreams enhance our vision, not block our path?

I have run the extra mile, hiked the mountain and yes, I swam the channel. I am not giving up, or giving in. My nose is pressed against the glass in amazement. I continue with the shades up and the windows open. And my friends, how fortunate I am, and  lucky, that as the age of 65 winked into existence I realized the wisdom of my journey. 

It is at this point that blog-writers ask questions to enlist comments. I'm not going to do that this time because I know who stops by, I know who cares and I know how important the wonder of shared thoughts and words are.  

It's okay. Sometimes silence is the greatest anthem.

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?

 

The Ant Story

Roselle Park, NJ, 1957.

Sitting next to a cinder-block wall which was painted white I watched as a big black ant struggled to carry a leaf twice its size. He labored up half a block, walked horizontally along the grout line, and then slowly tried to continue his vertical climb. Each time he just sort of wandered back down to the grout line and did what I interpreted as rested and then he tried and tried again. Finally I reached over and grasped the tiny leaf piece and tugged. He let go and immediately climbed the stark face of the wall. Just as he reached the top I placed the leaf in front of him, he took hold and carried it up over the lip of the wall all on his own.

Some folks would have watched him attempt the impossible and moved on, some would have never noticed and walked away as if nothing was happening around them, and some would have smashed the little bugger without a thought.  

When our almost impossible dream, struggle, quest, or whatever-it-is, is mirrored in the expectant eyes of someone else it’s hard not to put them out of their misery with the truth.

I don’t do that anymore because...well just because.