Musing Solitude

A rare evening alone. Time to think and dream.
My work in progress stalls. The first section cannot seem to get past itself. This is a project I have stopped and started more than once. I refuse to abandon it again.

What makes a story worthwhile? What makes one draft more important than another? This is one of those moments where a vision to the future or a handy wormhole would be appreciated. Is this worth the effort?
Perhaps that is a decision...not a reality. :)

All dreams are so powerful in the beginning. Taste, color, light, energy. Sustaining the power of the dream and riding it all the way to completion--this is the challenge. For now, I will stop trying to fight the riptide and swim sideways until I reach the shore.

Queries, Strategies, and Loss

Sending out those query letters! I have so many strategies. I second guess myself. I'm asked questions I cannot answer. What books are most like the one I just wrote? I do a search on Amazon and am even more confused than when I started.

Loss: Many years ago when I would write poems in composition books late at night I wasn't thinking about marketing or positioning myself. I wasn't thinking about success or failure. Of course, not all of my poems were brilliant, but it didn't matter.

It matters now.

My book is
My book is like

My book is a story that started in my head. I started seeing images, characters in situations. I started to laugh. I remembered what it felt like to be desperately in love with someone who couldn't love me back. I found pacing and plot. I wrote.

This is my book.

Enjoy the Journey

I've heard this many, many times from speakers at writers' conferences.

So, what journey am I supposed to be enjoying? The journey to insanity? To poverty? The journey of a potential delusion that one day I will be up on stage telling people, "enjoy the journey."




NOTE: Please realize this is a sad attempt at humor. I apologize for the cynicism.



Oh and enjoy the journey!

In the Hands of a Writer

Sometimes I have conversations with myself, and sometimes I see scenarios, little scenes play themselves out in my mind. A moment ago I thought of a man talking to a woman. There was some sort of emergency, and he said to her, "are you a nurse?" She laughed and replied, "no, I'm a writer. You're in the hands of a writer."

These characters in my mind may or may not become characters on a page, but the phrase "you're in the hands of a writer" resonated. Sometimes I think of my characters this way. I've, in a sense, created them from the muck of my unconscious and injected life into them. Now what? I'm responsible. Their fate is in my hands. Sometimes, often in fact, I make life very, very difficult for them. Conflict and challenges every step of the way...Is it fair? No, not at all. Perhaps I feel guilty. I created them after all. I do make them conquer and triumph in the end. Well, unless they don't triumph...But, always, always they learn something and walk away with something new. A perception, a piece of knowledge, a shard of hope...

All from my hands.