Starting Somewhere

May 2010. That’s when this journey officially started. That’s the day I sat in my favorite reading chair with a spiral notebook and began to scratch out the rough idea of a story. I’d had a dream with an interesting scene and I needed to know what happened after waking. That was the beginning of my story.

I wrote during the preciously few moments of quiet in a house that’s full of life. I wrote before heading off to a job I was fortunate to have at a time when it was crucially needed. I wrote on the front porch when I needed to find solace in a busy routine that could steal my identity if I lingered there too long without a break.

 Interesting things started to happen when I forced myself to step away and work on something I enjoyed. I remembered that I had always loved writing and couldn’t figure out why I had walked away from it. Sure, I did a little journaling, but that’s different from sitting down to see how a story unfolds. I began to look forward to putting my words on a page to see how everything would come together. I began to enjoy the world I was creating. I began to feel balanced and active. It didn’t matter how many times I refilled a cup, or fed the dogs, or wandered through a week of a job that I wasn’t crazy about, or packed lunches, or a million other things that kept me busy. Knowing I could sit down and write helped to keep other things in perspective.

I hope that you, fellow reader, have something in your life that brings you a sense of satisfaction. What does that look like for you?

Will Write For Sequel

I confess, December swallowed me whole. It chewed me up and spat me out. I now find myself in January with nary a new paragraph in the sequel to Ransom of the Healer. I did hammer out 1,601 words on a random short story idea I had just to keep myself writing something. I tend to keep several ideas simmering and stir the pot every now and then to add some life to the story. I have aspirations. I have goals. I want to write a paragraph that people have to read twice because it’s beautiful or thought provoking. Thank you, Margaret Atwood, for your beautiful prose and the challenge it creates for me to become a better writer. In order to do that, I have to practice. Every errant sentence in all of my random musings will mean nothing to anyone else, but to me they are akin to the driving range and teeing up just to keep the motion of my swing familiar and deeply ingrained. (Sidenote: I (sadly) haven’t played golf in 14 years now. I don’t know that I even remember how to hold a club.)

I’m currently questioning the attainability of some goals and how much of a role persistence plays versus right time and place. It seems to me that you just have to keep up with the persistence in order to find the right time and place. Until I’ve met my goals, I’ll just keep plucking away at the keyboard and remind myself how much I love this craft and that there are a few folks out there who are just as curious as I am to see how this journey unfolds. So, fellow reader, look for Rise of the Seer later this year. And give your local independent authors a smile of encouragement every now and then. Who knows? You might just end up as a character in their next story.