About a year ago I started writing a novel. The concept and characters had been developing slowly, their fuzzy faces filling up the lobby of my mind, waiting for me to bring them into focus. I thought that reading extensively about good writing would give me the spark I needed to put pen to paper and finally create. But, while I learned about creating plot, plausible motive and really good bad guys, the writing came slowly. I was cautious and overly analytical. A chapter in one of the many 'how to' books (I've forgotten which one) got me to realize that writing is about releasing the pressure valve to my creativity, about letting it flow, no matter how imperfect. Once I accepted this, the writing came more easily and I cared a little less about editing. I started writing in earnest for no other reader but myself. It was a satisfying creative outlet.
Then my laptop died. It was a prolonged, painful death.
I had, thankfully, backed up my fledgling novela. But without the convenience my laptop provided, my brain became lazy. I found a lot of excellent reasons to put off writing, namely some 'necessary' craft projects. In an effort to break out of this funk, I've started a blog. My husband suggested it would be a good way to get back into the practice of writing, something, anything. You won't find my attempts at the next great American novel here, but my musings on life and things that fascinate me. So, here goes.
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