Yep, that’s right folks. Step right up, we are talking about that elusive cardboard beast. The one that creeps into our writing no matter what draft you are one. The good ol’ Show versus Tell. If anything I have figured out in writing, critiquing and editing my work and others it is that writers want to tell stories. We need to tell a story. Which is great because readers want to experience them. We have already established that in Something’s Gotta Give. I read a lot of cardboard. I call it homework. It varies in style and genre. If I had to define cardboard writing, I’d say it comes in many forms (bland in need of creative/craft spices usually) and results in a story that Continue Reading →
It starts with this: put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn’t in the middle of the room. Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around. – Stephen King Life, the grand poohbah on high, offers us the guts of humanity to examine and explore every day. It is also a communal ride regardless of how singular we may think it to be. No man is ever an island or how else would we get our morning coffee? We bounce off each other forming thoughts and ideas every second, all across the globe, affecting our world simply by being our unique and individual selves. Life is the greatest art we all create and Continue Reading →
Any story worth its weight carries emotion of some sort. I don’t care if it is about a Jack in the Box, there better be emotion buried inside. Readers dream of stories marinated in feeling. Season it with whatever theme/genre you want, action, romance, adventure, whathaveyou, but the true flavor, the lasting bone deep hit you over the head goodness resides in an emotion filled bite. Great authors not only know how to do this, they give you the VIP all access backstage pass. The up close, skin on skin – in the story side seat – behind the eyes and in the brain, moment by story moment, living the buildup and the breakdown. I am turning pages almost faster than my own eyes can Continue Reading →
If you fell down a rabbit hole, what do you think you’d find? A little bunny in his home, all snuggled in for winter. He’d be drinking hot carrot soup and reading about Peter Rabbit. Maybe he would invite me to stay. He has lots of books lining his wall. Plus the house looks really cozy with its quilted Easter egg lamp shades and pastel wallpaper. Okay, not really. I’ll be serious now… I tripped. Isn’t that how all good thing begin or was that bad? I can’t keep things straight when I am three inches tall. No I did not drink any potions or eat any magic mushrooms. Nor was there some disaster. I am naturally this tall. They call me a sprite, a Continue Reading →
Or rather New Me. 2018 is the year of action manifested. It is a year of doing what you love and loving what you do. In our crazy world such a simple thing may not seem like much but it matters. Which is why my word of the year is DO! As in: Yes, I do have a book in print. Yes, you will find it on Amazon (further on down the road in 2018). There it is my people of the page, my intention for the year. I have high hopes and the excitement of a two-year old on a caffeine sugar high considering said book is knee-deep in the “work in progress” stage and must crawl through editing then walk hand in hand with happy beta Continue Reading →
It runs in your veins creating ice trails through that splintered heart. I didn’t see the crystal shards embedded in your blue blooded, pale hand or the deep-freeze under ninety degrees that never thaws. It lingers in your voice, the cold, detached goodbye, the frosted turned cheek, and the dismissal with your eyes. How I wish we never got involved. I’m tired of the hardened heart, the chill of this empty bed, the heat misplaced and displaced. How simple things roll off your banks and careen down mountainsides laden with snow. Caught in the avalanche and buried in your cold.
I could gush about Kate DiCamillo like a young fan girl. There I said it. She has a knack of hooking me on page one and I slip into her world forgetting mine, the bills, the dog, and am transported back to my youth. A place and time devoid of Kate DiCamillo. For if her books were around when I was a child, I’d of found my best friends in the pages of her works. The Tiger Rising is no different. Well maybe a little. What person is not fascinated by a wild creature, a tiger no less? From the first words we are off and running on an adventure. The characters are real, and while I might have found Sistine or Rob my heroes Continue Reading →
In a recent trip to Five Below I unearthed this little book gem – 400 Writing Prompts by #piccadillyinc and figured I’d share the prompts on Facebook and then put my brainstorming attempts here. 500 Words is the writing goal, but attempt # 1 weighs in at a lean 300. That’s life. Enjoy the rambles. While at the beach you decide to write a message in a bottle. What would it say? Who would you like to find it? Sitting in the sand, my hand digging against broken shells I feel the smoothness of sea glass not quite ripe. Pulling it up I find it is not a broken shard but a bottle sealed shut. Canned air from god knows where hits sky. I stick my Continue Reading →
Writers are in some ways a strange breed. We are for the most part solitary creatures, the introverted wall holders at parties with rich inner worlds to inhabit. We may babble in highly caffeinated mumble speak instead of English and not be able to string together two coherent sentences in our real world conversations. Yet take us to a writing conference and whoa, who is this person? Okay, I’m describing myself but I’m sure there is at least one writer who gets this, feels my words and is secretly nodding their head. If you are that person, and you have not already done so, run, not walk, to your nearest writing conference. It just might change your writing life. Why? Reason # 1 Writers are your Tribe. Continue Reading →
Sometimes I wonder how they connect, those glistening jewels above, creating myth and legend in the night sky. Past from generations, word of mouth, we sit and stare. Each star a beacon, tracing back the years. How many pointed to the heavens, creating beauty with upswept fingers in the air? Whispered words in reverent tones, the stories around campfires told. Or lulled to the rhythm of a rocking boat, just how to navigate. Lost and found, warrior or lover, all search for the constellation they call their own. While remembering the North Star is always there to guide us home.