Tag Archives: writing

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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Innocence to Import

I surpassed my writing quota yesterday, which was great, as I undershot the day before that. Sitting down to write continuously – rather than jotting down notes or writing different scenes (of which I have pages filled) – never fails to remind me just how little those filled pages are compared the enormity and complexity of the story. I see all the white spots – all the Unknown. It’s exciting, but daunting, if one dwells. But then, that’s only if I look at all the work yet to be done as if I needed to do it in one day. Instead of seeing it for what it is: a wonder-filled journey of discovery. Every day filled with possibilities.

Yesterday, I stumbled upon something unexpected. Nothing monumental, but still a mystery and a thrill. You see, I knew this place existed – had known for a few days about this one place in particular. But I did not know the main character actually entered. Once she did, I was perplexed. Now, what would she be doing in here? What could she be after? Confused, though I was, I continued writing. And then, there she stood: a new character. Again, nothing huge. Just a moment in Main’s life. I admit, I was curious about this new woman. Writing the exchange, I could see purpose in it, but nothing Main would not store deep in a closet of memory, probably never to open again. And then it happened. One line and the atmosphere changed. It was no longer merely an innocent, every-day (or, every other day) exchange. Suddenly, it was personal.

One thing I was fairly certain of: Main would remember this woman. This was a moment to remember, and someone to wonder about, here and there, over the years.

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Losing Myself Behind the Walls of Music

I love looking back over my music playlist to see the places I lost myself in another world. Most common when I’m writing – as I often listen to music to block out other noises – but occasionally I get caught up reading while my music is on. Sometimes it’s just short segments: “Didn’t hear that song.” Sometimes I’ll find I’ve missed a long line of songs. This time – reading rather than writing – I found that for the past 45 minutes I have heard part of every other song, almost exactly. Just one segment where I missed 2.5 songs in a row.

When I’m writing I generally hear one song per 45 minutes, or sometimes part of a song every 30. The familiar songs fulfill their purpose: blocking the noise by allowing my mind to relax so far into their memorized path that I am completely unaware of it. Creating my writing closet with walls of music.

I don’t know why this interests me. 😉 I’m a strange one.


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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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Savor It

These were amazing. Wheat flour, white flour, and oats made up the grain. Very tasty, and a healthier alternative.

These were amazing. Wheat flour, white flour, and oats made up the grain. Very tasty, and a healthier alternative.

I’ve been thinking about my health recently.

I’ve always been one to value health and wellness, nutrition and exercise – fitness in general. But I’ve always had ‘reasons’ why I could not live the way I wanted. There was always something. And, truth be told, there will always be reasons. Money. I can’t afford to eat healthy. Time. I’m just too busy to exercise, to plan meals, to grocery shop. Tired. I just don’t have the energy to exercise, to go out for fresh food or that missing ingredient for that recipe.

So what does that mean? I’m too tired to live? I’m too busy for life? I can’t afford to live? Then what the heck am I doing??

Never too busy for a lil lovin' on my baby. :)

Never too busy for a lil lovin’ on my baby. 🙂

And then there’s a different problem to busyness: eating too quickly (and let’s not forget ‘quick food’ generally means ‘unhealthy food’). My mind is going over and over the tasks of the day, and the next day, and the rest of the week, the rest of the month. I hardly taste the food, and my hand is trying to move from plate to mouth as fast as a thought is moving from forefront to background. Impossible. This leads to eating more than necessary because I’m not thinking about it: I’m not thinking about whether I’ve satisfied my hunger or not. And sometimes I blasted well liked the food and wanted to actually taste it – at least a couple bites of it. Mindless eating… This usually means I get a lil more to satisfy my taster. But it’s not healthy. Eating slower means I don’t overeat (well, less likely), I can enjoy it, and I maintain a healthier digestive tract.

Great with homemade spiced apples too.

Great with homemade spiced apples too.

I’ve been doing better with the home-cooking arena lately, and the targeted shopping. Oh, and the exercise a lil bit too. 🙂 But I have not been conquering the hasty eater, which makes me feel like a failure. And then there’s the semi-contrasting side that gets upset at hunger for interrupting my work. “For pity’s sake, I fed you [two hours/three hours] ago! Does it ever end?” What a mess. But let’s not delve into my pathology too far, shall we… 🙂

New England Clam Chowder. Albeit not the healthiest option, but still homemade. And tasted great.

New England Clam Chowder. Albeit not the healthiest option, but still homemade. And tasted great.

Today a phrase kept repeating in my mind (but not in the annoying way): “Savor it.”

So many times I treat day-to-day life the same way I do food. It’s either in my way or sped through by overthinking the future and losing sight of the present. Savor it. Savor the moments. Think in the moments. No, don’t lose sight of the future. Keep planning. But not at the expense of the present. If I enjoy it the first time, I won’t feel like I need to go back for seconds. I won’t wake up suddenly to realize my ‘bowl’ is empty and I never even tasted it. I won’t be left with vague memories of a vague life.

So that’s my advice for the day. For the week. The month. For life.

Savor it.

My lil chubby penguin. ;-)

My lil chubby penguin. 😉

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From the Mouths of Fortune Cookies


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November 12, 2013 · 3:40 AM