The quirky habits of Cricket Stone

In my upcoming novel, For the Birds, main character Cricket Stone has a super quirky habit. Warning: it’s spicy!

Headphones plugged into an iPhone on a desk

It started with a song… The inspiration behind For the Birds

This past year, I went through a bit of a writing slump. When I say a bit, what I really mean was that I was ready to throw in the towel because the book I was working on was bringing me zero joy, and I felt like I was out of ideas. And then, inspiration hit me out of left field in the form of a quarantine album, specifically one of the songs on the album.

Meet Cricket Stone, the main character of For the Birds

Who is Cricket, exactly? What does she do for a living? How old is she? Where does she live? What are her quirks? These are all the thing I needed to figure out before I even started writing For the Birds.

Tiffanie DeBartolo, author of Sorrow

Book Crush: Sorrow, by Tiffanie DeBartolo

DeBartolo took my breath away and shattered my heart when I read her other book, God Shaped Hole, and so I went into Sorrow knowing I’d be changed. I had no idea how much, though.

My contest winning submission: Big Trees

This short story is one I entered in “Wish You Were Here,” a Redwood Writers contest about travel experiences. And guess what. I won first place! Read it here.

Short Story: The Tree Bed

Excerpt from my current novel in progress, For the Birds. While Meadow freshened up in the bathroom, I did a quick dust job of the canopy of branches over the bed, then changed the sheets. By the time she came out, the bed was turned down, the room bathed in the soft glow of our … Continue reading Short Story: The Tree Bed

What’s the Point of Writing?

If you’re a writer and ready to give up, read this first. I know you’re tired. I know you have times when you wonder what the point is. You wake up early, stare at that blank page, and aren’t sure why you even bother. You have things you want to say, but you’re afraid no one … Continue reading What’s the Point of Writing?

Short Story: The Yellow Dress

“Edison McIntyre,” he said in his thick accent, affecting my heartbeat as he clasped my hand in his. The amused squint of his eyes didn’t help, our secret history flowing between us, unbeknownst to Mr. Finnigan. “Charles has told me all about you,” Sonny continued. “I look forward to us working together.” …

Short Story: My Mother’s Garden

The bees were already at work on the lavender bushes, despite the early hour, and I watered the base of the billowing plants to avoid soaking their fuzzy bodies.

“You’re doing a wonderful job,” I cheered them on, just like Mom used to do. She talked to the bees, the birds, and the plants the same way she’d talk to a child, asking them about their day and offering encouragement. When I was young, I swore they answered her. …

Tiger Lily, Captain Hook, Peter Pan, oh my

Tiger Lily is the girl I want to be when I grow up. Brave in spite of her fear, bold in standing up for those who had no voice, humble in her accomplishments, and open to the lessons in hardships she experienced….

I got my dream job. Then I quit.

It’s probably not a surprise that I always wanted to be a writer. It’s all the things that came out of that dream that are surprising. And, just like most writers, it began with a love for reading.

How to heal your bruised writer’s ego and keep writing

He let me know how strong the bones of the story were, but that it needed more work before it was done. My ego flared brighter with each mark on the story. I mean, I’ve been a writer all my life, and an avid reader. I knew what I was doing, dammit. So I did the mature thing. I decided to quit writing.

Love Letter to Just Desserts

This morning, in an effort to find that peace, I decided to write a love letter to my novel. I know, I know. This is painfully cheesy. But you guys, it worked. Instead of feeling like my manuscript is a burden standing in the way of my happiness, I have this seed of warm love for the story, almost like it’s my own child, held in my hands.

Vulnerability hangover? Nah.

Usually after I write an ultra vulnerable post, admitting all the things I’m struggling with, I wake up with a vulnerability hangover. Not today. I feel relief, like breathing is a little easier.

Life is a mother

I’m in this super deep funk right now where I can’t see up from down. Sure, I can blame COVID, but this has been going on since way before we knew what it was like to SIP for months on end. In an attempt to purge myself of every block standing in the way of my writing, I’m going to be ultra vulnerable here and spew my stuff in this blog post. Get comfy. This is long.

How are you doing?

How are YOU doing? How are you holding up? What are you doing to care for yourself right now? What’s weighing on your mind?

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