The Ocean at the End of the Lane By Neil Gaiman Few books manage to cast a magic spell from beginning to end. Gaiman managed a feat that as a reader left me spellbound and as a writer, left me in awe. Yeah, I’m late to his fan club party but what an introduction The Ocean at the End of the Lane makes! The protagonist starts at a funeral, wanders aimlessly towards the home of his childhood friend then recounts his youth while sitting and staring into her backyard pond. The friendship fostered with one amazing little girl takes the reader on a journey that delights the heart even in its sadness. It is a modern day fairy tale. Between the pages, one will find Continue Reading →
It sits in me, this restless urge to fight the depths of what I do not know. To bring light to the space where darkness grows. The void, pitch black, the feared and the not. Sacred somehow in its time and space. Of me it does not care, I am merely the beast knocking at its door. The fire breathing tendrils and caught up smoke, trapped and panting with rapid eye. I am the nothing to its all. The attached and unaware. Still I dive the depths and search in frantic waves. This thing that is me, aware and free.
Good news. Finicky Eater is finally in the editing process! So dear reader, what does this actually mean, aside from Kasha and the gang getting a bit of a make over? Well, the writing is getting tighter, the story stronger and hopefully, you will have a story worth the wait. Publishing is not far off. Stay tuned.
Its sits inside me, an eternal flame, demanding quietly, gently, something more. Breathing it in, breathing it out, it hungers for all I can give. Every experience, taste and sound it wants to know. Every touch it wants to feel. A bottomless pit I cannot feed enough. It wears my skin. Knows no bounds as it reaches for you, eager to sample yet again another sweet drop of tumultuous heat, rousing from the deepest places in me to the sky. Somehow to bear witness, to prove with nothing more than breath the sanctity of us. Satiation there will never be.
I will first say that I am a little biased. I did a writing workshop with Tosca and found her to be one of the highlights of the 2016 Florida Writers Conference. She is an amazing teacher and gave many invaluable tips on writing. Demon: A Memoir By Tosca Lee Wonderful debut novel. It is a slow burn, a story that digs its fingers into you as you read. It does have a Christian slant but it really didn’t bother me as a reader. I actually enjoyed the POV of creation from the demon. For me the greater themes of choice, unconditional love and hate overshadowed religion and carried the book, as did the relationship between Clay and the demon. This is the first book Continue Reading →
Writing is intimate. It is art on a good day and maybe a glimpse into my soul, my persona, what moves and motivates me, or the belly button lint I am unraveling for the day. I’ve seen that in the works of others who I read consistently, the person who occasionally slips in. They are the shadow lurking in the back of the room, only noticed because you happened to glance up at just the right angle and see them. It isn’t much, just a hint, because art, whatever the medium, isn’t about the person creating. It is about the reflection of the something greater that the artist has received and their expression of that. I used to think only great writers had that ability. Continue Reading →
I tend to read less when writing. (Something about too many words running around my head and eye glaze.) Then something fantastic happened. The book I was reading to avoid my own writing turned to shit 500 pages in. Kinda sad considering I would have bought the rest of the series. Not only did said book go to the great give away in the sky, the author’s chances of ever getting me back are slim. Yeah, as a reader I’m harsh. Reading time is valuable and there are a gazillion great books just waiting to crowd my already crowded bookshelves. Yet I am forever thankful I read that book. More thankful even, that I read it when I did, which was while struggling with my Continue Reading →
The salted sleep, the ocean waves, sand between my toes, safety, peace, the world revolving round, trees in the wind, all the simple things neglected or that which has been taken for granted. The heart fractured and now opening, healing, the stars in the sky, books, fingers entwined. The innocence returned with wisdom entwined. Songs, peals of laughter, dogs barking and a smattering pitter pattering of rain falling. Knowledge life’s enumerable pains all pass. It is not the big moments remembered, more the day to day grind forgotten in its simplicity and the growth of soul, now that is bliss.
This weekend I attended the Florida Heritage Book Festival in St. Augustine. Being the first conference – for writers – I’ve ever been to, I have to say that connecting with like minded individuals, learning a few tips and tricks and finding a few new authors to read was well worth the trip. 🙂
When I originally put Finicky Eater on this site, the story was still in its infancy. As in a couple of months removed from being written and of first draft quality. It has since moved into a toddling second draft with another go round of editing awaiting it before advancing to a fast walk then run. I’ve decided to let the original work stand for those curious to see the writing process. However below is the new and improved first paragraph… Little things tended to add up. Not that Kasha considered this as she grabbed her jacket and headed into the living room. Anticipation quivered in heightened senses becoming a fevered beat pulsing in her head; the soundtrack, devoid of music, was more than a precursor Continue Reading →