A major task in my city is freeway driving. Trying to get from Point A to Point B is an impossible issue. Traffic is a snail’s ride on a parking lot, causing significant irritations, especially when time isn’t on your side. Recently, when I was in a holding pattern, within a ¼ of a mile from my exit—a thought came to me watching all those solo drivers. ‘How many were alone, had family, or had friends.’ Continue reading
A tree is in my house. A tree in my house is unadorned with lights, ornaments, or presents. I’ve been studying its shape and its nakedness.
Over this past week, its image has become a focal point for my morning meditation. The tree’s calmness and the stillness of its branches, resonates inside me, a reflection of this year. Continue reading
There are times when I wonder what am I doing? Many days I talk to myself.
Writing is not an easy answer to a question that occupies the time. I achieve a form of satisfaction when people read my blog or books and compliment me, but the reality is I write because I enjoy it. My success is like an imaginary playmate, sometimes it appears, and sometimes it giggles, running away.
Any writer taking years or months to finish a project deserves an award. If marketing isn’t a skill, then a slow start is fueled by endless cups of caffeine, sleep deprivation, and self-doubt. Continue reading
I’m always reflective in the last two months of the year. I’ve always been this way for as long as I can remember. The changing of the seasons from fall to winter brings thoughts of the end of a year, and more often, how fast time has passed.
Time, as I age, becomes no more of a number, or a nail waiting in the wings ready to seal my coffin. In my mind, I’m still the wide-eyed, huge-smile child, the one whose picture is on my dresser—she’s in long, pig-tail braids and fashionable cat-eye glasses. She reaches through the frame and hugs me when I need it. She is my past, present, and future. Her voice is mine. Continue reading
The journey, when writing a story, is a ticket with no expiration date—It takes as long as it takes.
There are many things I look at when thinking about my next story. One is the PLOT.
Are the characters compelling enough to evoke within the reader a range of emotions: from sadness to happiness, to anger, to sympathy. . . . remorse, guilt, understanding, anxiety, fear, disappointment, romance?
I believe the reason why my writing resonates is I cut to the chase and give believability to my characters. I feel the most memorable plots are ones when life traps characters between a rock and a hard place. Urgency is the time bomb—minutes and seconds wasted can change life’s course. Think of Casablanca, The Christmas Carol, It’s A Wonderful Life, or Saving Private Ryan. Each story has a do-or-die-plot. Continue reading
Writing is a job, a skill, a passion, and a journey. In all its hard work, there is nothing better than seeing the results, of what took a VERY long time laboring. Finding my path, and hitting the mark—it is tremendously rewarding receiving the praise of what I’ve written.
My novel, The Last Merry Go Round—takes a knife and skillfully slices off the skin of marriage—will be released before the end of 2019.
“The brief segment I found in the ‘Future Books’ section of your blog site already tells much about Diane, so poignantly depicted as ‘lost between the beginning and end’ of her husband’s sentences. I must say this is one of the best descriptions of suffocating repression I’ve ever read. I also came across the Toni Morrison quote you’ve clearly chosen to live by. You’re obviously flying with little or nothing weighing you down.”‘-Irene Kavanagh, Owner, Final Writes Editing & Writing Services
I dedicate this novel to all people trapped and lost somewhere between the beginning, middle, and end. Continue reading
The unknown for me is scary. Sometimes, fear grips me, and I become very immobile. I admit this is a life-long exercise, and most times, I WIN.
I can count my demons, and wonder, how will I ever be able to put one foot in front of the other, to fill a blank page with my imagination? Am I alone in this thought? Writing cultivates fear. It strips away all clothes and reveals a writer’s words—naked—or the world to either love or hate. Continue reading
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
After a long time, an agent in London expressed interest in representing me. I can say from all the solitude, self-doubt, re-writes, and happiness to have completed The Last Merry Go Round two years ago—I’m numb. 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