The art of preparation

The art of writing is not just sitting at the keyboard or writing in a journal. It's daydreaming, staring into an open sky, or your surroundings. Listening to music, watching a really really good movie. Its all these things. Inspiration has come to me while watching commercials on tv...yes, it has. So feed your brain, give it more and more. Look at everything in a different way, the trees around you, interactions of passersby. All of this observation and inner reflection is fuel for your writing muse.

What i find helps me is sitting outside in the evening, listening to the wrapping up of the day around me. And watching the light dim as the minutes tick past. Then the night comes, which brings the mind to a different and more introspective place. You'd be amazed what you can think of, and work out sitting alone and letting go of logical thought.

Try it, you might surprise yourself. :)

WRITE every day, READ just as much, WRITE more.

An excerpt..Sharing Sunday

I'm in the middle of revising...2nd time around. And thought I would let a snippet of a passage that still sits with me days after I read it. So, as I nibble on my tortured nail bed, I open my palm and let it fly into the world..thoughts and feedback are most certainly welcome.

The musty smell in my cage wafted around me like a thick smoke. Others had been held inside. I spotted hints of aged blood and hair in the crease of the window bars, someone had put up a fight, good for them. My eyes roamed the sizable cell and when they reached the corner to my left, a shadow of something took up the otherwise empty space. That's when I drew in a sharp breath and regretted making a sound.

      “Staring is rude, hasn't anyone ever told you that? Or has the orphanage fell short these last few years on teaching manner and etiquette?”

      The boys’ voice sounded amused, but held an underlying irritation to it. I was still shaky from the surprise of not being alone in the gypsy’s wagon, and a new concern sat with me, I was locked up inside the cell with him. I chose my words wisely.

      “I wouldn’t call it teaching. Obedience is the main subject there, the only subject. I’ve found that their beliefs on human treatment and mine don’t mesh, being that I’m not an animal. And as for manners, I’ve yet to meet someone who deserves the effort.”

     I'd never been good at filtering myself, I just spoke what I thought. Hence the scar gracing my neck. So I should have expected what came after. I heard the quick movement, the slide of fabric over the floorboard, but he was quicker and I hadn't the privilege of knowing my surroundings as well. The burn of a needle prick flooded my veins and I felt a moment of calm, a black shroud covered my vision and before I lost consciousness I swear I felt the brush of a delicate breath across my cheek.

So, that's my sharing for today, i hope you enjoy the excerpt. I'm in love with my story, and I believe that nothing out there has covered the premise. What  passages  in your manuscript send goosebumps across your skin? Im happy to say that i feel that often when reading what I still cant believe comes out of me sometimes.

I wish that for you writer, dreamer, temporary inhabitant of a fantastical world. Because if you don't love your story, most likely no one else will either. Get lost in silliness, playful childhood, that's where all the secret kingdoms lie waiting for you to return and discover their magic.

WRITE every day, READ just as much, then WRITE more.