They lied. They said that starting is the hard part. The middle is where the challenge lies. Standing at the top of the mountain of pages and words looking back and thinking you've come to far to quit and looking ahead feeling that you just don't know if you can make it to the finish line. Yep, they lied.

I'm at that part that I know (intuitively) is the middle of my novel...{ continue reading }

It was a balmy 102 degrees the day I realized I lost all the previous versions of my novel Im currently writing. Yet inside, I felt cool, calm, and a inkling of relief trickling down the side of my temples. Something deep inside me, beneath the heat and wonders, made me think that I should be mad, furious, and even a bit panicky. But I wasn't. I really wasn't. And today, the very next day, Im still not. 

So here's the skinny. I've been working on my novel, tentatively titled The…

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For the past three days, I have not written into the draft of my novel. I have, instead, sat quietly and written what I call “listening notes” based on what I’ve written and what is simply coming to mind. Just thoughts and ideas. Details and pieces. Everything that is being born out of simply listening to the story as it comes to me, from the characters themselves. Keep reading, I’ll explain.

I’ve given myself four months to get the first draft of my novel completed, and it has been…

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Yes, I called it an art.



Anything that I do so many times with pure enthusiasm, from my whole heart with genuine intention of creating something beautiful, and can do it over and over again without the promise of fame and fortune, but simply because I like it...yeah, baby...its an art for me.



But its not a good thing. Not today. Not yesterday or last week either.



So I have this fascination with getting to a certain point in my prose writing projects and I start… Continue