As glorious spring arrived here in midcoast Maine, my writing mojo was stuck, frozen in the deep winter of “you are never going to get out of this place, lady.”
I’m drafting, so I told myself that I should be comfortable with the world of incompletely formed story pieces, plot holes, etc. But the perfectionist part of my brain was clearly NOT.
Read MoreSpring is springing, the birds are singing, and I am getting serious about writing routines. My absolutely favorite time of the week is the morning I have scheduled with my dear friend and fellow writer to do this hard, wonderful thing TOGETHER.
Here’s what that looks like: we sign on to zoom, we catch up, we talk about what we’re struggling with in our writing (there’s always something), and then we simply WRITE. On mute. No cheating.
Read MoreHello from the precipice of my children’s holiday break. We are reading CS Lewis right now, and are nearing the end of Prince Caspian. As Lucy, Peter, Susan and Edmund are on their journey, they are toiling along the precipice of a river, and so my kids asked me what this word meant.
“Well, it’s kind of like being at the top of a cliff,” I said, without looking up the word in the dictionary.
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