Some years ago I found myself to be in some sorrow.
I had spent twenty-seven years as a married man. Life had its ups and downs, as it should, and I learned to gather enjoyment from both the good times and from our ability to deal with the not so good times.
All that ended the day after my twenty-seventh wedding anniversary when Read more
The dreaded ‘comp’ or comparative title is every querying novelist’s nemesis. You spend years writing and perfecting your novel—a book only you could have written, a story unlike any other—and then you’re asked to list the similar books.
What? Are they crazy? Of course, there is nothing exactly like your novel—that’s why you wrote it.
The trouble is—this is the business of books. If you want an agent to promote your work, if you dream of the day a publisher will commit to printing your pages and you can’t wait to see your glossy hard cover baby mingling on the shelves of your favourite bookstore, then you need to help everyone to position your book. Read more
Is there any subject spanning the ages that has been written, sung and contemplated about more than love? How many battles have been fought and tragedies endured over love?
Seeking inspiration for writing a Valentine’s Day sentiment, I sorted through my late grandmother’s postcard collection and found a few valentines she had received between 1908 and 1913. The cards are little works of art, most printed in Germany or Saxony. Surprisingly, a number of messages included requests to let the senders know if she was still alive. It was hard to tell if the questions were asked in jest or if it was a very real concern given it was early in the twentieth century.
The cards inspire a lot of creative imaginings. They were mailed from distant places and I wonder about those who sent them and how they knew my grandmother.
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So I caught the ugly fish, Covid 19, in early January. Like a huge catfish, it latched onto me with its sucker mouth and slathered me with all of its nasty symptoms. This includes losing my sense of smell (Anosmia) and taste (Ageusia) for a week.
These are the twin sisters of senses as the loss of smell effects the sense of taste.
…and smell and taste are in fact but a single composite sense, whose laboratory is the mouth and its chimney the nose…
~ Anthelme Brilliant-Savarin (and see note below)
What is something every writer craves, besides an active imagination?
The answer is time. To be more specific: UNINTERRUPTED TIME.
Why?
So, you could write and possibly finish that novel you have been working on for a year. Or has it been two or three years? Since the pandemic started, it feels more like one big giant nightmare of when-will-this-ever-be-over kind of day/month/year. Sad, but true.
What if I told you that I know where there is a private island? Read more
Fiction is not lying. That’s not what I’m talking about when I talk about the lies some writers tell. And writers aren’t liars for writing fiction. Far from it. They’re telling a sort of truth that is purer than any fact one might produce from experimentation and research.
How so? They’ve told you in advance that this is fiction. Therefore what you are reading is what is understood to be their thoughts, their creation. What could be purer or truer than that? Read more
Humans insist that we are qualified to run the world. Every so often, the world says “wanna bet?” as it bombards us with proof that we aren’t (i.e., climate change and covid-19). Still our governments assure us they have our backs and that rescue is on its way. Alas, turns out our governments are full of humans. But, being ever hopeful (or stupid), we console ourselves with platitudes like, “Everything will be fine. We just need a little more time.
”This process reminds of the steady thrum of ‘wannabe writers’ as we complain about all the things in our lives that must be done before we find enough time to write.
I, for one, have been saying that since I was 8 years old. I read books that taught me how to manage time and thus find more. Then, twenty-five years ago, I discovered the magic of Morning Pages as recommended in The Artist’s Way. Much to my surprise I stayed steady with this practice until December 25th, 2021. That was the day I realized last year’s journal was full of pages and pages of ‘woe is me’ jumbled up with ‘I am woman!’ declarations, all of it punctuated with daily ‘to-do-lists’, that I don’t complete. Why? Read more
