An excerpt of the first chapter of my current novel in progress, For the Birds.
This blog post includes suggestions from readers about the books they plan to read in 2021, plus a little bit of eye candy.
In my upcoming novel, For the Birds, main character Cricket Stone has a super quirky habit. Warning: it’s spicy!
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.
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.
On November 29, after months of early mornings, meticulous plotting, and long writing sessions, I finally reached the final scene of my book….
Thoughts on the end of 2020, and what I have planned for this New Year.
This year I read a total of 52 books (so far). Here’s a list of my favorites.
I definitely owe you all an update. I feel like this year has slipped past me, all while still feeling like it’s the year that will never end. How can it be already December when it’s still March? That’s honestly how it feels. My biggest update is that I took the month of November to … Continue reading For the Birds, NaNoWriMo, and other updates
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.
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.
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
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?
“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.” …
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 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….
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.
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.
Some romance novels take my breath away, but not always in a good way.
After too many virtual happy hours, it was time for a change.
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.
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.
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 holding up? What are you doing to care for yourself right now? What’s weighing on your mind?