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Showing posts from November, 2016

Lighting the Way with Literature

My rewritten novel, The Grove of Thorismud, is complete to THE END! I'm making final edits with the help of beta readers--several with expertise in writing, European culture, and/or history that far exceeds my own--and with some gifted advice by an experienced editor, Teresa Crumpton of AuthorSpark. (And she is currently offering free sample manuscript critiques to first-time submitters, so get your work-in-progress a Christmas present!)

EDIT: I have cut 6,000 unnecessary words out of this document. My book just went on the biggest crash diet ever.

My rewrite of Briars and Black Hellebore, which has evolved into The Grove of Thorismud, has taken a much darker turn that feels more aligned with the social unrest happening around us in real life. My sweet romance has become something almost like an anti-romance, in which the characters' disillusionments challenge them to find new reasons to go on living and loving.

Art imitates life. I'm inspired by this list of 18 famous auth…

Blame the Moon

You might as well. The moon is a circle of reflection and shadow.

Here we go again.

The Supermoon came just after my birthday. I saw a glimpse of it, driving home from a writing group meeting, where we didn't write or even talk much about writing. Instead, we watched Lemonade and talked about loving what betrays us.

The explosion of hate crimes and racial and sexual harassment that followed the United States presidential election disrupted my work, my art, my everything. As it should.

The children in my local districts surrounded minority students, shouting "Build a wall" and "White power." Swastikas and slurs against homosexuals spread like rashes on the doorways of homes and businesses.

Is this the fever break?

I'm terrified, and I'm hopeful. I'm disgusted and relieved. I'm watching America pop its hillbilly cyst on a dirty kitchen floor.

What happens next?

Dr. Sharon Blackie, mythologist and psychologist, puts the question beautifully in …

Timing Isn't Everything

The start of NaNoWriMo has me panicking about finishing The Draft That Never Ends. It's also been over five months now since an agent invited me to resubmit my rewrite. Am I taking way too long? (By the way, I'm in the middle of the climactic ending and have just passed 120,000 words--bringing the rewrite close in length to the previous manuscript. Also working on some parts with a professional editor. I'm really, really... almost done.)

Last week, I received a terrifying text on my phone that shook me out of my anxiety about my novel. An unknown phone number asked, "Have you checked your mail today?" Just in time for Halloween tricks!

I wasn't home, so I called my husband, and he told me that I had received a package from an old friend whose phone number I hadn't updated. Whew!

I came home to open my gift, and it was an exquisite painting of my husband and me when we had first started dating about 12 years ago.

We hung it up right away.

I remembered that…