Tag Archives: Writer’s Life


Last week I had to remind myself again. It seems a weekly occurrence for this thick-skulled writer.

Don’t get stuck on the missing details.

This is the first draft. I am building the skeleton around the heart. The sinew and other organs can be added later. It is not going to be a complete, fully-functioning work on the first pass-through. I am not that writer. Do I look like S.E. Hinton? No.

Write what you know now. The rest will come.

As I am writing each scene, more snapshots of future scenes and future moments in this scene reveal themselves. Maybe that’s why it takes three hours to write one scene. 🙂 (How many hours to write my first draft?)

I already know some written scenes will not be in the final manuscript. And I know some that will likely be combined. But that’s good. Some scenes are only meant for the writer: to deepen my understanding. They feed the story. They feed the writer. They are the pieces digested and turned into bone and muscle.

It will all come together: after the 4th, 5th, 6th….17th, 23rd, 31st draft. 🙂 I am a builder, a laborer. Not a finger-snapping magic wielder. I have the privilege of being a sojourner in my characters’ land, and I want to experience each scrape, each slide, each fight.

I love it! 🙂

This first draft. It will be a gruesome thing to behold: flesh here and there, bones exposed, fractures, organ pieces pulsing. But that heart will be beating.


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Surprised Again


I thought I knew who she would see, but suddenly it was not. It was someone new. This added a whole new dynamic.

Sometimes writing is like unveiling a painting of many colors. Each addition is a new color unlocked. It stretches from its initial discovery, and I gaze in wonder at all the places it fills and the colors it blends with – completing the painting that much further.

And, speaking of color, I am so ready for spring.

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Saturdays with Lupo

“In nine lifetimes, you’ll never know as much about your cat as your cat knows about you.”
―     Michel de Montaigne


“A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.”
―     Ernest Hemingway 


“The only escape from the miseries of life are music and cats…”
―     Albert Schweitzer


“Time spent with a cat is never wasted.”
―     Colette


“What greater gift than the love of a cat.”
―     Charles Dickens 

Lupo 10

“The smallest feline is a masterpiece.”
―     Leonardo da Vinci

Lupo 11

“Cats are connoisseurs of comfort.”
―     James Herriot,     James Herriot’s Cat Stories

Lupo 12

“Authors like cats because they are such quiet, lovable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reasons.”
―     Robertson Davies


“One day I was counting the cats and I absent-mindedly counted myself.”
―     Bobbie Ann Mason,     Shiloh and Other Stories    

Lupo 14

 “A cat is only technically an animal, being divine.”
―     Robert Lynd

Lupo 13

There are few things in life more heartwarming than to be welcomed by a cat.

―     Tay Hohoff


Of all animals, the cat alone attains to the comtemplative life. He regards the wheel of existence from without, like the Buddha.

―     Andrew Lang


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The Journey Continues


I love this journey.

I have been back to writing steadily for more than a week. Back in the thick of the journey. It’s incredible. I love when the unexpected happens. Love it when my expectations are completely wrong. I love when my characters surprise me, especially when it’s two main characters that surprise me. This is the beauty of writing.

The characters know how to write their story far better than I. And I love it when they take over. I love that feeling: when my eyes are following the words my pen writes, listening and watching my characters, and my eyebrows flick up in surprise or I have to smile in admiration at one or more characters. I love it when they surprise me, and I have a feeling they love to surprise me. Like: “Bet you didn’t see this coming.” “Bet you didn’t know this.”

Their version is so much better. It fits better. It is the real story….What I want to uncover.

Happy to be discovering. 🙂



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So I plunged back into my book yesterday. To actually writing and brainstorming on paper rather than just contemplating. Yesterday I was cementing the culture of the book more firmly in my mind. (Reading history books is excellent stimulation.) But today a new scene started playing in my mind. An emotional and telling scene for the protagonist.

Listening and transcribing what she was saying during an emotional outburst, and thinking about the truth in her admissions, I found myself, yet again, saying: what the heck am I thinking? I can’t write something like this. Well, I can, but how can I publish it? Is the world ready for something like this? Can they accept a character like this?

I know some can (like me), but the majority? Will they misunderstand her and abuse her with their false beliefs? Can they see and accept the darkness and the light at the same time? Will they believe her: that these two extremes exist in one person?

I know that other characters may share versions of different traits and struggles, but none are her. None have her combination. I don’t know any like her. So there’s no one to be the guinea pig. No one to test the market. And those characters that I think could identify with her and be friends with her…Well, I’m not sure how the rest of the world feels about them.

She’s closer than a daughter, and closer than a friend. Our relationship is different than either, and my feeling-levels vary from those presets. She’s in a category of her own. I am protective of her, and yet so very proud of her. But can readers possibly catch a glimpse of what I see?

I’m the only thing between her and the world, and the only one that can bring her to the world. I am the river and the bridge. I can’t cover parts of her because readers may ridicule her for it, or simply misunderstand her, which is so much worse. She wants to be honest with the world, and I must let her.

So today, I resisted the urge. I let her say everything she felt, and I wrote it unabridged, though I did cringe on occasion. Not because I dislike it, but because it goes against every protective instinct I have to let her be so transparent. But I did it. And I determined yet again (you see, I go through this battle quite often) that I must write the entire book this way. I can’t muffle her. The readers can either accept her or not. They can love her or not. But she will be real. It must be unabridged.

I hope, one day, you get to love her as I do. 🙂


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The Way It Is

English: Debrecen - McDonald's

English: Debrecen – McDonald’s (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sometimes I wonder: Why the heck did I have to want to be a writer?

Why couldn’t I want something simple? Or something complicated but attainable? Why couldn’t I dream of being a teacher? Or a nurse? Or a career waitress? Or a McDonald’s employee? Something attainable through a set education? Something that has a normal-to-high chance of employment in the field upon graduation?

Why did it have to be writing and authorship?

But when I think about it… I guess I dream of being Me. I am a writer. I am a story-teller (in the modern sense of the word…not a liar). 😉 That’s just the way it is. Would I change it? No. But, sometimes, being human, I wish I was normal. But, oftentimes, being human, I’m elated that I’m not.

So what am I going to do? Am I going to sit on my Writer’s Bum  and do nothing? Or am I going to sit on it and do a lot of something (writing). And so I push steadily onward. I am a writer. I am an author. And, one day, I will be a published author – even if it’s self-published and 99% of the world hates it. (It could never be 100% hated…I love myself too much for that. – Kidding!) 😀

Oh but wait, I am published – an internet-published author. Sweet! 8)



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