I need to get rid of wearing-me-down-baggage with the onset of October and the fall season. Seeing that I’m not a person who makes New Years’ resolutions, I take this time of the year to recharge and access for that last sprint before December 31st.
I once read: “It’s not how you start, but rather how you finish.” Looking over the past months leading into October, there’s been laughter, shock, happiness, sadness, enlightenment, and plagues of stagnation. Continue reading
Waiting and waiting for a response from an agent is A WAITING GAME COCKTAIL MIXING INSOMNIA WITH DOUBT.
After getting the first and quite personalized “I encourage you to not give up,” I realized that I was in good company. As Harper Lee said, “I would advise anyone who aspires to a writing career, that before developing his talent, he could be wise to develop a thick hide.”
So, I share—I’ve submitted my query, submitted my synopsis, and first 10-15 pages. While I waited to hear back from a wonderful agent (I researched) who was looking to grow their clientele list, looking for women’s fiction, looking for page-turning stories—I kept writing. Continue reading
Not long ago while I was on the bus, a small group of teenagers sitting in the back were having an exuberant conversation about classes, music, sports, an upcoming party, prom, college, and friends. Normally, these words alone, spoken by African American teenagers about to face the next phase of their lives—-would generate a positive reaction. Yet, as their dialog was consumed with, bitch, niggah, whore, fuck, shit, goddam, motherfucker, asshole, sonofabitch, punk, and many more (you get my point) colorized words—I looked about me and saw the cringe of disgust on so many people. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t in the mood for an altercation if I spoke, so I exited into the heavy downpour and walked my last two bus stops and 3 more long blocks to my home. Continue reading
The creative writing group I belong to had an assignment. We were to use these words: Solitary Rose, No Serviceable Parts, Rain, and Church, and write a story of at least 800 words.
I took a risk and wrote a story in a dialog from a child’s point of view. My peers loved it. It was fun polishing off my voice and reading my story in a dialog quite different from my own. Continue reading
Many things give me story ideas. The obvious is PEOPLE WATCHING.
Listening to dialog, whether it’s in a restaurant, on a bus, or at a coffeehouse—my ears and senses are wide open for the way a person walks, the tone of their voice, their clothes, the topic of conversation, and, of course, the emotions locking into their face. I press play on my imagination to record what I see and hear. Eavesdropping is the best way to find story lines, infuse a character description, or spice up the story’s dialog. Continue reading
There are many female writers who amaze me, not just with their writing, but how wisdom plays a role in who they are, and why they write. These are a few memorable quotes I think apropos for writing from the heart.
“Writing is a job, a talent, but it’s also the place to go in your head. It is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon.” ~~Ann Patchett Continue reading
Last year started and ended the same, happiness landed and is still here.
~~~Instead of making New Years’ resolutions, I give myself a mental tune-up, so I’m prepared for whatever happens during the year. I call this: fine tuning my attitude, or developing more perfection, of a mental habit, for simplicity. Continue reading
A task in school was to write down a word and take each letter of that word to describe what the letter meant to you. This quirky game allows me down time from writing, while still sparking examination of me as a writer. I’d like to take the word WRITER and see what I can do with each letter. Continue reading
I’m an organic writer using imagination and instincts. I owe this to my father asking me (ten years old) to recant his two favorite, weekly television programs (over by nine o’clock), when the steel mill put him on the night shift. Continue reading
One Saturday, after giant hands slashed opened the grey sky and released continuous rain, I wasn’t inspired anymore (that day) after hours of re-writes. I bundled up and took the bus to my other home—the library. I love our central library (rain or shine), a magnificent structure of eleven floors of intricate shaped glass and steel, designed by two brilliant architects, Remment Lucas “Rem” Koolhaas and Joshua Prince-Ramus.
When I need inspiration, this library’s enormous fiction section has it in spades. Its national and international selections are a reader’s dream. Continue reading