Stasis is by its very nature a fixed point. The regular order of our lives tips us close to stasis, and that’s where reality prefers us to be. Partly out of a need to keep us in line and partly to keep the rest of the world spinning right along. You get up, you go
Today is Easter, or is it? I grew up in the church and my mother’s voice still rings in my ears when it comes to holidays. It meant getting up early, getting dressed up, and fighting with a cowlick for a good ten minutes before heading out the door. Easter was a day to praise
Once a torrent of activity, my hands have gone quiet. The fingers do not feel the flow of quicksilver to press the keys and forge new paths and stories. This is good. Writing is the act of forging, taking the lump of steel and hammering it until a final product shines through. That act –
It took me longer to press the send button than I thought it would. I almost held my finger back and made another excuse from the long list of Author Excuses™ because sending your manuscript out is terrifying on several levels. Even to beta readers. People you know and trust in their opinions. Once you
Lately my brain has had more than a few puzzles cycling through it. There’s a system out there which I cannot mention, a secret locked anyway in the universe of thought which will not lend its secrets so easy, that I must solve. And worse yet, I believe this system – this puzzle played
Influences come in many forms. For some it might be the musical tones of Stan Getz or maybe Trent Reznor, while others can’t feel their inner child groove until they hear Depeche Mode. For me music was never a first gear, it was somewhere in the middle between first and second. I have many wonderful
As the white glitter fell from the sky late this week, I like many of my fellow suburbanites wondered aloud, “Seriously?” The snow this half of the season has come on strong. Weather patterns or Mother Nature having decided the winter is not yet finished with those of us within reach of its grasp. During
The next point in the creation process has arrived. From the stage of Wonder, where a story swims through the ether hand in hand with my muse, until it bangs a swollen fist on the trap door of my consciousness. At this point a tidal wave of ideas flood out, each demanding the attention
I’ve often wondered what it would take to make the next step in my writing career. I think it’s a question many in my same position let roll around in their heads on nights when sleep is far from easy. What is it about the process that makes us so interested? I’ve self-published all five