These days my life revolves around filling my head with knowledge at school. It’s quite challenging and takes up a lot of my time. I’m very dedicated and have always loved a good challenge. I knew that this program would be intense, but I really had no idea it would be quite as consuming as it is. I find myself wishing I had time to express myself more creatively.
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Category: on writing
Writing Gift
My inspired artist friend; a lover of all things creative, recently sent me a calligraphy set. She is working hard to preserve the wonderful but dwindling art of letter writing. For a couple of years now she’s been perfecting calligraphy-style handwriting and trying to inspire me to do the same. Cards and notes from her are little works of art, often including water colour touches, photographic watermark images and envelops closed with personalized wax seals.
A beautiful, decorative box held everything to get me started; three fountain pens: each with a different sized nib, instructions for basic strokes and common scripts, lined practice sheets and even a tiny pointed sable brush for filling in large letters.
My 40-Pound Window To The Past!
I’ve been transported back in time to 1938!
Okay, not really, since I haven’t (yet) mastered time travel (although the subject does very much interest me!). But my “new” purchase is as close to 78 years ago as I’m going to get.
Don’t Say The Old Lady Screamed!
Mark Twain said,”Don’t say the old lady screamed, bring her on and let her scream.”
“It was near midnight so I went out and moved my car into the driveway.”
I’m fond of telling people that when you’re writing, you always show and never tell what is happening. The statement above is telling, not showing. It tells every boring detail of a boring event in a brief and concise way.
And there is no picture in your mind, or not much of one. Someone put their car into the driveway, because it’s not supposed to be on the street after midnight. I’m yawning now. And I wrote it. Read more
Breaking up is Hard to Do
When you’re between relationships, it can be hard when you start seeing someone new. You have such strong memories of the other person you were with. Perhaps a feeling of comfort because you KNEW them, really knew them. Whereas the new person is all exciting and shiny, a big mystery you have to discover. But it might not all be pretty, in fact, it probably isn’t.
I left those days long ago. Next month, my husband and I will celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary and we’re not breaking up. What I am struggling with is starting a new novel and “ending it” with the old novel. I can’t commit to the new one because the old one isn’t published. So I drift between two stories: writing pitches, queries, synopsis on the old novel, and working up characters, plot and voice on the new one.
And each time I say I’m done with the old novel, nothing else I can work on, something else comes up. And face it, I’m struggling with the new novel. I was innocent and naïve when I started the first novel, happily going along not knowing what I was in for. I started the first novel right before I met my husband, so the breaking up metaphor is more like a divorce.
A Simple Thank You From A Stranger Can Change Everything
Being a writer is sometimes difficult. There are times when you sit at your writing desk and stare at your screen. No typing; just staring. The white blank page becomes a dark scary place with an evil black cursor blinking back at you, daring you to write something worth reading. It’s like being stuck on a raft in the middle of the ocean, with no paddles, hungry sharks are circling and no matter where your eyes focus, you see nothing. No land. No help. No words. Your inner voice is stalled. The fear envelopes you. You can’t think and you can’t write. Not one single word. And, if by some miracle you find it in yourself to write a sentence or two, five minutes later you are hitting the delete button. You are right back at the beginning: the blank screen, with criticizing readers circling, waiting to attack you with negative feedback. This is when you think about giving up. It would be so much easier. Maybe, you weren’t meant to be a writer?
And then, something like this happens…
Place My Heart On The Page
You say you want to write? No, you say you need to write. You say it’s the thing that you are driven to do? You say you need it like water? Like breath?
I can understand that. I hear you. I feel the same. I’ve written for most of my life, though I spent a great deal of time writing and tossing out what I wrote.
You see, for the longest time I thought that what I wrote wasn’t worth sharing. It took me years to realize that the decision of whether or not my writing had value wasn’t my decision to make. Read more
From Ruby Slippers to Rings: Objects in Your Story
Robert Ray, in his book “The Weekend Novelist Re-Writes the Novel”, provides the following tip: “Plant a sacred object on page one that recurs in Acts Two and Three. By the midpoint, that sacred object could be growing into a symbol. Symbols can make you famous. That sacred object, grown into a symbol, should make you proud. A happy writer.”
I know the importance of characters and setting in a story. But objects? What’s he talking about? With the lure of “famous, proud and happy” on the hook, I decided to find out.