Tag: writing

Excellent Imagery

pear

Suddenly the whole world had changed. From the dense blackness the sky on the horizon opened up, as a breeze, singing like the notes of a distant pipe, blew gently on the treacle night. The horizon greened, grew lighter, and glowed. Oranges and pinks reflected of early morning clouds, as the alien sun rose over the side of the planet, majestically reminding the trees of its existence. The trees knew, and remembered. The grasses at their mighty roots whispered to each other, and the piping breeze hushed them with caressing hands of air. The white fruits, plump and womb-shaped, swelled...

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Oh The Sickness

slippers

[bt_bb_section layout="boxed_1200" lazy_load="yes" show_video_on_mobile=""][bt_bb_row][bt_bb_column lazy_load="yes" width="1/1"][bt_bb_text] Every author wants to write all day, all the time. But life has this horrible way of getting in the way. Three months ago I sat down with the third draft of a book about a secret service agent, a kidnapped Empress and some devious plot devices. I had time while my oldest kid was at daycare and my youngest was running around my feet bringing me plastic objects for me to admire. I got really into it. I was writing, and editing, and changing whole chapters and even the names of characters because...

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Where is the Tin Opener?

tin opener

What a Wednesday. My partner-in-crime is out, and I think I'm ready for the evening crazies that start at 4pm, despite my 6 broken hours of sleep the night before. I set out the prep for my dinner and put #1 kid's food in the microwave. Then I try to find the tin opener and it has vanished. I remember that she's taken to thinking it's a hairbrush and pinches it out of the drawer, so she's taken it, or I've confiscated it and put it somewhere "safe". A cursory search yields only frustration for me. Then #1 yells for...

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Finding time to write

Sometimes I know what a book is going to do before I start. Sometimes I just start a book hoping it will write itself, and often it does. The book I'm on at the moment I have always vaguely known where it was going, it's just trying to get the characters there seems to be a hard one. This one grew organically. I started with a specific image in my mind and wrote that down. The characters came easily, and the first part of the story grew without me really trying. Then I got to a point where I figured...

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