The Story of Your Life
I’ve been working on story 2 of my Silver Rim series, and this past month, I hit a wall. I’ve found in my writing the first thing I come up with is never the right thing. My main character, Ren,
I’ve been working on story 2 of my Silver Rim series, and this past month, I hit a wall. I’ve found in my writing the first thing I come up with is never the right thing. My main character, Ren,
After spending three months editing, rewriting, and trimming my novel, I have discovered some similarities between the craft of writing a story and the craft of living a life. And I wanted to share some of my observations with
Nothing against peanut butter and jelly. I love a good PB & J on white bread. Tasty. But sometimes it’s not the tastiness that attracts me. It’s the easiness of it. And therein lies my loss. The comfort of the
If I hear myself say, “I’m so busy” one more time I’m going to toss my phone in the James River and hide the power cord to my laptop. Lately, it seems like every other email I send starts with,
It’s time to rewrite the story. I believe we all have our own stories to live. We live them, make our choices, deal with the consequences, and move on. But what if we could go back and change the story?
Letting go of my dream isn’t something I thought I would ever consider. Over the weekend, I had a meltdown, though. I got to the middle of my Saturday and realized I’ve been spending my life in one place while
The sun’s shining, the birds are singing, and life is copacetic. Having an anvil drop on your rainbows and kittens isn’t even on the radar. But then it happens. A cold wind blows. The birds scatter. And life throws up
Formatting I may have misjudged the importance of formatting. (Heavy sigh) You know, rules have never been high on my list. Not that I’m a big rule breaker. I’m pretty much not a rule breaker, except for the time I
– Life, Faith, Love, and the best is yet to come! I’ve been thinking about life lately. Well, maybe that’s not accurate. It’s actually death I’ve been taking sideways glances at. Death. It’s right there, and yet we hardly talk