I am so excited about this workshop! I look forward to sharing what I know with fellow writers. We all have a lot to learn, including me. It’ll be a great experience. Be there or be square!
I went to my favorite little shop in Palm Beach Gardens the other day, and was happy to learn they’d sold two more copies of Taking 1960. They also mentioned a number of people had picked up my business card. Always good news!
Soon, they’ll have Check Out Time available for purchase as well. Unfortunately, not in time for Christmas. If you live in the area, check it out. New Earth Gifts and Beads is located in the Legacy Place plaza in Palm Beach Gardens, across from Barnes & Noble, and next to Vitamin Shoppe.
I’m happy to say that I’ve taken a leap and submitted some poems to a magazine. I’ve also made a spreadsheet to keep track of my submissions, and I intend to fill it. The blank page gives me incentive. While I absolutely adore helping others with their writing, I must also give myself a swift kick in the butt now and then, and try to get more of my own work out there.
After my day job at the library, I tied up a couple things, and worked on a rather involved editing project for a while. I’m finishing up for the day, and looking forward to a nice, restful sleep.
For now, click here to check out the Backwords Writer, my personal blog about poetry, writing, and life. I’d appreciate if you follow me there as well. I’ve been creatively inspired lately, and it’s making every day brighter!
I hope everyone had a lovely day. Enjoy your night, and have a pleasant tomorrow.
Last week, I had a dream about someone I’d never met. The very next day, I met the person in real life. My dreams have been very powerful, prophetic, and telling lately, providing insight, ideas for stories, and even brief escapes from reality. The nightmares haven’t ended, of course, but I’m grateful for even a short reprieve from those.
I’m filled with creative energy, bursting at the seams, and when I was able to change my perspective about the novel I’m currently working on, a few pieces fell into place, and I realized where I’d gone wrong. I ended up deleting at least three chapters, and removing the entire first section.
As I drove home in the pouring rain, I felt as if my father was sitting in the seat behind me, guiding me.
And I began a steady mantra to myself, a soft whisper in the back of my mind:
I will get an agent. I will sell a book to a big publisher. I will do it.
Because half the battle is the mindset. I’ve known this for many years, but it’s taken all that time to break out of the mold created for me when I was little, to shed the negative thinking I was brought up with.
I see where I made my mistake. I made my mistake when I believed the Voices I heard as a child, the ones that said I would never succeed. I made my mistake when I believed the people who scoffed at my dreams, crushing them like smoldering cigarette butts under their shoes. I see where I made my mistake.
Now I’m going to correct it.
New York Times Best Seller list, here I come.
As I was handing out brochures at the welcoming tent during today’s Fall Muster with the Loxahatchee Battlefield Preservationists, I heard the distinct sound of someone walking up the drive behind me. I turned to hand them a flyer and started to open my mouth to speak, but then I realized no one was there.
Loxahatchee Battlefield Park is a truly magical place. When I’m there alone, I feel as if I’m being watched, especially when I visit the Tree of Tears, where injured and dying soldiers laid to rest under the shade during the Second Seminole War.
I’m proud to be a member of the Loxahatchee Battlefield Preservationists, a group that has worked tirelessly to preserve the battlefield in Jupiter, protecting it from developers and others who would destroy it for their own monetary gain.
If you find yourself in south Florida, remember to check out local history. Despite what you’ve been taught in school, there’s so much going on here. There’s a rich history hidden behind Florida’s tourism, and it’s important to spread awareness of this.
Share this post, get the word out, and come see for yourself!
At a support group meeting this evening, I discussed my childhood fantasies with complete strangers. It was both terrifying, and relieving. I told them I couldn’t remember much of my childhood, because I spent most of the time escaping into worlds of my own creation. I knew I was being bullied, I knew I was miserable. So I made a decision.
I just won’t be here. I will be somewhere else.
I became quite good at leaving my body and drifting away into a story. It was a ritual. I would arrive at school, go through the motions, sit at my desk– and then depart.
A good friend of mine often mentions people we went to school with, but I never remember any of them, and if I do it’s like a shadow, a distant familiarity I can’t put my finger on. But I remember the stories I told myself. I remember those very well.
In every story, it was dark. I would walk through my house and realize my mother and brother were gone. They had been kidnapped by malevolent entities, bent on murdering them and coming for me next. Because I was such a brave girl, I would leave the house to save them, heading straight for an abandoned mansion on a hill, knowing my family was trapped there, and it was only a matter of time before I lost them. Deftly, I would sneak into the derelict building, destroy the enemy, and rescue my family. At the same time, I would inadvertently free the ghost of a boy who’d been imprisoned there for many years, and he would fall in love with me. Meanwhile, my mother and brother would gush over me, telling me how wonderful I was, and how grateful they were that I’d saved their lives.
I was reading a book the other day that recommended write what scares you the most. I told the group I’ve been trying to do just that, but something is eluding me. I’m on page 225 of a novel unlike anything I’ve ever written, and much of the topic frightens me. The story involves alcoholism, love, betrayal, and coping with psychological problems rooted in childhood. I spend a lot of time crying when I’m writing this book.
But there’s something in there I can’t quite grasp. Maybe it’s hidden in the shadows in that derelict mansion, or perhaps those amorphous entities are keeping the secret from me. And so I endeavor to write what scares me the most, because I figure it’s not only a way to write a darned good story, but it’s also a way for me to escape the shackles that bind me.
What scares you the most? How do you incorporate it into your writing?
Sometimes I’m too afraid of what other people will think to write what truly frightens me and expose it to the masses.
How about you?