writing
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Brilliance in Neutrals
One of the perks of living in Europe is that it’s so very close to… well, Europe. Hence, we’ve seen a lot of cathedrals. London alone has dozens, and while I would never argue that if you’ve seen one cathedral, you’ve seen them all, European cathedrals and chapels do offer a predictable checklist of characteristics: vaulted ceilings. Intricate artistry. Stained glass windows as colorful as Jolly Ranchers. Perhaps that’s why, on our recent day trip to Oxford, the stained-glass west window of Magdalen College Chapel stood out. It wasn’t colorful. No showstopping scarlet and jade tones, only gentle neutrals. Subdued browns and greys depicting a sobering scene of the Final…
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Storytime: Mother of My Son
Remember storytime? Remember sitting criss-cross applesauce on carpet squares in the Public library? I do. Fondly. During this crazy new world of quarantine, I’ll be reading/recording my novel Mother of My Son on youtube. My hope is to post a couple chapters every weekday, 7pm London UK time, 1pm US central time. No one likes a cluttered inbox so I won’t blog post every time chapters are available so be sure to subscribe to my youtube channel for updates. Discussion welcome! Sharing encouraged! Pop questions in the contact me page and I’ll address them, hopefully during one of the readings (and I won’t embarrass you by revealing your name). Grab…
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Birthday Giveaway
The Ground Beneath Us is one year old and you may be the recipient of a birthday gift! (keep reading 🙂 One of the greatest JOYS for me this past year has been meeting with readers. It’s always fascinating to discover which scenes resonated or angered or delighted. What brought you to tears, what made you laugh, what you liked, what you didn’t… Knowing that the story will not only live on in my imagination, but in many of yours as well, thrills me. Thank you for reading, thank you for telling your friends about ‘Ground’, thank you for stepping into the world in my head and spending time with my imaginary friends. For a…
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Just Keep Writing, Writing, Writing
When it comes to writing, I’ve been in a literary desert. It’s been months since I’ve written anything beyond a grocery list or Facebook status and even though I’d like to think I left it all on the field to get The Ground Beneath Us finished and released last fall, that’s kind of a convenient excuse. It’s not writer’s block. I’m not out of ideas. In fact, my head feels too full which, I’ve found, can lead to a mental paralysis of sorts. What’s ink worthy, what’s not? What should I write about, what should I keep to myself? This has been a season of concentrated processing of all sorts…
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Letting it Go
It’s here. My latest novel. And I’m quite excited and somewhat relieved and a little terrified because now it’s out. The work is done. No more tweaking. No more hunting for that perfect verb. All the verbs are in place and the nouns too and the sparingly yet enhancing (hopefully) adverbs and adjectives. My characters are all in place, like actors on a stage, poised to tell– show–a story. Ready for you, reader, to run your eyes across page, freeing them to live in your imagination. It’s a tad bittersweet, for me. A goodbye of sorts. Goodbye characters. Goodbye Holly and John and Seth and Annalisa. I love you even…
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The Biting Truth About Transitions
When I was in labor, fourteen years ago, I almost bit my husband’s neck. We were trying that “dancing” technique that sounds so sweet in Lamaze class—my arms around his shoulders, his arms around my giant waist, rocking back and forth. But I involuntarily added another move: my teeth were bared and slowly sinking into his neck. He still thanks me for not actually biting down, but I was this close. I was in transition—that in between time when you go from pain to HELLO PAIN! Transition. Such a nice word to describe agony. Life is full of transitions—moving, changing jobs, going from unmarried to married, married to single, kids…
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The Shortest To-do List Ever
I’m finding it hard to write during the summer. There are projects to complete and ice cream cones to eat and things to paint and I’m supposed to be in the “marketing phase” of my recently released novel (which, I’m finding, isn’t like writing and not my favorite cup of tea) and the kids are home and now that my oldest is nearing fourteen, I’m mentally counting down the remaining summers with him. And I just don’t want to miss summer. So. On his first day of vacation, my very sweet husband took the kids out for the day so I could get in some writing. When my daughter realized…
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Editors Rock (but I don’t think I’d ever want to be one)
Despite my English degree, I am not the queen of commas nor do I always break my paragraphs in the correct place. By the time I sent my manuscript to my now publisher, a year ago, the thing had been cut, revised, and rewritten countless times. A speaker at a writer’s conference once said editors expect 97% of the work to be done on a manuscript before they take it on. So while I felt my baby had been edited ad nauseam, it still needed some editorial TLC and a fresh pair of expertise eyes. I’m a newbie, so I don’t have all the answers. And I don’t know how…
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Ravens, Writing Desks, and this thing called Vanity
“Why is a raven like a writing-desk? Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice again. “No, I give up,” Alice replied: “What’s the answer?” “I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter. Neither do I yet this riddle from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland remains firmly planted in my mind… and leads to today’s rather random ramble: my writing desk, which, truth be told, isn’t a desk at all but a vanity. Yes, a vanity. Do they make these anymore? I don’t know. It used to belong to my grandma, complete with a mirror (now detached and down in the basement) and a cute…
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Words Never Spoken
I once had to do something really mean to a character and it took me by surprise. The story needed it, but I didn’t know until all of a sudden, while I was writing, it hit me—what I had to do—and it left me feeling a little sick. Oh no. Not that. This is gonna hurt. But it had to be done. For the sake of the story. Writers are cruel, cruel beings. So I took a breath and apologized out loud to my character before I stabbed her in the back. Then I fleshed out the scene, blew my nose, and took my kids to the park as…
