As a writer, a real fear of oblivion is EDITING.
Looking at what you wrote, believed in, and sweated over… isn’t easy taking a red pen to slash words—written out of passion—to tell a phenomenal story.
What are some words of wisdom for the dreaded editing process? Continue reading
Summer brings many things to mind, and one is the sense of space I had as a child. School recess went from June to September. A grin filled my face when the final bell rang. Happiness meant a reprieve from classmates who got on my nerves and unimaginative teachers, whose play-book was rule-driven. Finally, freedom from peer pressure about which suitable school (aka-hip) outfits to wear, or how to maneuver a full-throttle class load (parents insisted on me maintaining honors). Continue reading
Okay, summer is coming, and I realize May is one month before June, marking one-half the year gone.
Focus is stamped inside my head. Focus is the morning alarm clock. Focus has been with me all my life. It’s my parents’ voice, my teachers’ voice, and all too much—my conscience. Continue reading
As a result of meeting several women in a book club, I belong to a conversational group, gathering monthly at various coffeehouses around town.
There aren’t requirements, other than to make the time (about two hours) for weekend coffee. Attendance of writers, students, artists, retirees, self-employed, and newcomers to town varies between eight to a dozen. Continue reading
A simple life has been my goal FOREVER, BUT, AS THE WEEKS OF THE NEW YEAR TURN INTO MONTHS, I BEGIN TO DECONSTRUCT ME. I’m basically in the same place, the beginning of March, as I was in the beginning of the year!
Valentine’s Day owns February. The color RED means ROMANCE singing the timeless words . . . I love you.
I have friends who recently married, or celebrated wedding anniversaries, or got engaged — all within the last six months.
Writing my last novel, The Last Merry Go Round, is about a marriage — a fractured marriage . . . to say the least.
There are times when fear chases my shadow and I wonder why I’m not where I think I should be in my life. With promise of an agent reviewing my latest novel, The Last Merry Go Round, I feel I can breathe a little knowing validation will soon be on the horizon.
However, a thought keeps nagging me: Is the glass half-full or half-empty? Continue reading
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