A Writer's Journey

Revisited: The Wood Between Worlds

Hello there! I’m sharing this post from June 2015, when we said goodbye to our home for several months. This morning we said goodbye to Central Florida again, perhaps for good. As we greet this next adventure, I thought I’d revisit this place and the solace I’ve found there in the past. June is a time of transition for us. I will always remember this place with gratitude, and many others. The words at the end of this post ring true once again. 

Past the playground, around the “sandbox”(aka volleyball court), past the dock, towards the trees that rustle with the perpetual breeze from the water, the sidewalk winds its way out of sight. The kids and I have enjoyed this park for a couple of years.  How has it taken me this long to find this little bit of solitude?

The other day this park was my sanctuary when I needed a few minutes to regroup. I started walking towards the pond, but there was a party nearby. So I turned right down the sidewalk. That’s when I found it.

It was just what I needed. When I can’t do anything because it’s been so long since I had any solitude that I can’t even hear myself think, this is where I find quiet.

A place where I can bid my heart be still

And it will mind me

A place where I can go when I am lost

And there I’ll find me.
(“The Girl I Mean to Be” from The Secret Garden.)

When I returned from the walk, the pond reflected a brooding sky, and the breeze had picked up, rustling the water into agitation. Change is coming, warned the wind. You entered the woods and have returned to a different atmosphere. Soon you’ll be in a different place altogether.

I love this little wood between the worlds. Though I am leaving it soon, I can only imagine the new secret places I will find in the next few months. They are sure to be worth discovering.

My little adventurers love it too. They have their own new stories ahead of them.
Books and Stories

Westmark by Lloyd Alexander

Theo goes on the run when an attack destroys his master’s printing press and kills his master. Now a fugitive from the law, he travels through the country of Westmark, falling in with a con man, a revolutionary, and a girl with a gift for mimicking voices. Against the backdrop of growing political unrest, Theo wrestles with his own motives and actions: is he as good as he thinks he is, or is he a coward? Where does he stand in rising tumult?

Westmark is Lloyd Alexander’s first book of the trilogy by the same name. Plot driven, this is one of his largest and most complex casts of characters. Westmark is a land where cruelty and corruption have left their gruesome marks, making it one of Alexander’s darker books for young people. Despite this, Westmark showcases the author’s humor and clever turns of phrase, if somewhat less so than in his other books.

This short book packs a lot into its pages. As always, Alexander’s prose is sparse and vivid. Fans of well-developed inner conflict, action, and epic-type plots will enjoy Westmark. I’m looking forward to tracking down the other two books, The Kestrel and The Beggar Queen, this summer.

For a peek at a few of Alexander’s other books, read  this post about Tamar of  The Iron Ring. This post also has a few lines about The Arkadians and The Illyrian Adventure.


A Writer's Journey

Guest Post at Ink & Grace Editing

Remember how I planned to revise my novel in January, then I changed my mind? And then I changed my mind again. Recently I had the honor of guest posting over at Ink & Grace Editing. Read below and follow the link to read about what kept me back, and what pushed me forward. Can you relate? Let me know!

Do you ever find it difficult to pick one writing project? After a year of practicing short stories, flash fiction and poetry, I knew that 2018 was my year to tackle a longer project. The problem was, I had four of them waiting to be finished, and I was in agony over which one to pick.

These projects included two novels and two short story collections I wanted to expand and revise. Of all these, my darling was the YA fantasy novel I’d begun five years ago. I really wanted to return to it. But it just felt so big. And scary.

Read the rest of the post at Ink & Grace Editing.

A Writer's Journey

A Creative Process

Recently, a dear friend and writer asked me what my creative process looks like. I had to think about if for a while since it’s not something I’d ever defined before. Thinking about this process has highlighted some important elements for me, and maybe you can relate.

The first thing I realized about my creative process is that writing, like most things I do, is an intuitive process. So far my stories have begun with either a character or a setting.

With a character, I usually see an image or ask a ‘what if’ question. What if so and so actually did this instead? What if it this character is more than meets the eye? Or, as in the rough draft of a short novel I wrote last year Fences and Forest, if I can imagine a character whose personality is almost opposite of mine, what would he/she do? Most of my questions about characters put a spin on something familiar to me.

Little maps I’ve sketched become places of interest. Who lives here? What are the tensions and friendships that exist between them? Whose secrets will come to light? How will these secrets impact others? These are the kinds of questions that drive me to write about these places. Whether I start with a character or a setting, writing starts with getting curious about them and exploring their stories.

After I’ve written a draft, I sit back and read with a slightly critical eye. Without fail, I discover that it contains an element of therapy for me. That means that I have unintentionally begun to process a life event through the story. I have not yet chosen which life event before I start a story. Even in the stories where I tried to avoid that by choosing a polar opposite character from myself, I still managed to draw significant parallels between transitions in my life and my protagonist’s story.

Since this cannot be escaped, I can develop it into an asset. In fact, it is an asset. Some of my favorite stories are ones in which I can draw multiple parallels between the plot and my own life events. I know I’m not the only reader who feels that way, either. So by tapping into this process, it can help create resonance with my readers. Resonance reaches people like few story elements can. (See this article.)

At some point in writing, I take a break from the story to gain a fresh perspective. It might be a day. It might be a year, as in the case of last year and my longest-running project. I have certainly found this to be helpful and I always gain something from this break that improves my story.

In finishing the story, I always try to get feedback first if it’s something I want to publish. Writing can be a solitary endeavor. That is necessary, but writing and the writer need community. Asking for feedback is a great way to invite a trusted writing buddy or even non-writing friend into the creative process.

Ultimately, the stories that I find most rewarding to write are the ones that end on a hopeful note. Not perfectly, not neatly. The protagonist doesn’t get everything she or he wants. In fact, it’s often when characters face loss and hardship that we as readers connect with them the most. It’s how they face, overcome, or grow in the midst of these challenges that inspires readers. That’s one reason I love writing stories. I want to acknowledge my Creator in them, and I don’t want to use Christianeze. (In fact, I joke that I’m allergic to it.) Stories teach in a way that teaching and sermons can’t. Stories can take facets of invisible realities and offer them in a different light.

For me, the creative process will always be linked to hope. Redemptive, creative, fragile yet resilient, hope.

Have you ever thought about your creative process?What does that look like for you? I’d love to hear!

Books and Stories · The World We Live In

Phyllis Wheatley

(I know today is President’s Day, but in honor of Black History Month, I wanted to share a bit about this remarkable woman.)

The last time we went to the library, I found a fantastic book for kids on Black History Month and brought it home. I plan on reading some of it with them today since they’re off from school. One of the first people I looked for was Phyllis Wheatley, America’s first female African poet. I had been introduced to her beautifully stirring poetry last year. America’s Black Founders by Nancy I. Sanders provides a few brief but vivid insights into the poet’s life and times.

Phyllis Wheatley was separated from her family and enslaved in America as a young child. Intelligent and creative, her short life was full of unusual triumphs and devastating hardships.


She wrote poetry inspired by religious subjects and nature, including several poems addressed to people who had lost loved ones. Her first poem was published when she was a young teen. Not many years later, an entire book of her poetry was published. She corresponded with abolitionists and became friends with them, playing a role in the fight for the freedom she did not know herself in her entrance to the country. Phyllis eventually gained her freedom and married, but even as a published poet, their lives were anything but illustrious or comfortable. Indeed, the skill and feeling that endure in her poems illustrate the kind of faith and vigor that must have sustained her in a painful and obstacle-filled life.


You can read more about Phyllis Wheatley’s poetry, her involvement in abolition and her family, here.

Maybe in light of the fact that it is President’s Day, learning about these unsung, forgotten heroes who fought so hard for our country is just what America needs.


A Writer's Journey

2018 Writing Goals

Not all who wander are lost, but some of us have a hard time picking a path to begin with. 😉

There are few things as exciting as a new year and new writing goals! At the start of 2018, I had the bare bones of one children’s novel, the fourth or fifth draft of an older novel, and two collections of short stories. They all need revisions and I want to look into publishing one of them too this year.

My biggest question was how far will I go with The Ravine, my oldest novel? I took a break from it last year. I don’t know about you, but I love starting new stories more than I love finishing them. (ahem.) But The Ravine deserves attention. I need to finish something-right? Would this be the year to pursue finishing it, maybe even self-publishing? The research I’ve done revealed tons of resources on self-publishing and stories of writers who completed that process well within a year.

Wow. A novel of mine, actually completed AND published?! Sounds good! Sounds amazing, actually!

The more I researched, though, the more my choice became clear: self-publication-at least for a novel in need of much work-is too big a chunk for this year. Right around New Year’s, my husband and I had to make some quick, life-altering decisions that will result in rapid-fire changes over the summer. Our lives will be in a state of flux for three or four months, maybe longer. Trying to revise, edit, AND publish a novel in one year started to sound life-draining.

So! After vacillating hilariously all January over what to do which month, I finally recognized what was holding me back from choosing a project to start on. It boiled down to two things.

The first was fear of missing out. What if I should be revising that short story right now instead? But if I do that, what if The Ravine isn’t getting the attention it deserves? How can I neglect my poor characters for another month?! Woe is me!

I know. Saying it out loud gave me a chuckle too.

If you have this problem too, and there seems to be no imposed rhyme or reason to project deadlines, then repeat with me: these projects aren’t going anywhere. The rest will still be waiting for you when you finish one. Bonus: you’ll finish one! Or at least bring it to the next stage, and that’s saying something. Importance of hard work aside, we aren’t what we produce.

The other reason for my chronic hesitation is that, as I mentioned, I love writing more than revisions (certainly more than editing, yuck!). Hence the always starting something new. Months of solid revision sound, well, painfully boring.

So here is the solution I’ve come up with: I”ll set a time to revise and a reward for myself. You can do it too, whether it’s a number of minutes in a day, a chapter a week, etc. Pick small weekly and monthly rewards. Right now my goal is to revise one chapter a week. Then my reward will be to write whatever I want afterwards.

Still thinking about that monthly reward. Any suggestions?

What are your goals for 2018? Do you have trouble with indecision or set rewards for yourself? I’m cheering you on!

A Writer's Journey · The World We Live In

Writing Lessons of 2017

Happy New Year, friends! I wanted to take some time to appreciate 2017 before jumping in to my goals for this year. I wrote about small goals for 2017, since we’d just welcomed our fourth child in to the family. In simple terms, they worked. They gave me something to work towards. They helped my mindset. They gave me the freedom to dabble in some small projects. Flash fiction and poetry are such fun, creative challenges. There is something freeing about distilling words into something small. With such a busy year as a mom, I enjoyed flexing my writing muscles in sprint format rather than the marathon of trying to revise my novel.

All those prompts I tracked down? Those turned out to be fun at times, but I didn’t use them as often as I’d thought.  I enjoyed the prompts shared by other bloggers that I did participate in. Blogging started out as a way for me to practice writing more often. Daily or weekly prompts just weren’t what I needed when I had my own surfeit of ideas, too many to pursue.

Not surprisingly, in October, I couldn’t escape the itch for a longer project any longer. I chose a story idea based on a map I’d drawn some time ago. I outlined, free wrote, and did character sketches. By mid November, I started the first draft of a children’s novel, Fences and Forest. Then in December, my mom gave me the idea of finishing a collection of short stories I’d handwritten earlier in the year as a gift for my grandfather. Lightbulb! Thanks, Momma. I typed up, revised and edited A Year with the NimblePaws, a collection of stories about a family of mice, sending it off (nearly) in time for Christmas. I finished the bare-bones draft of Fences and Forest at 11:57, New Year’s Eve.

Those last two stories taught me a lot. I loved writing for my grandfather. When I was little, I would send him cartoons that he loved. My children have provided me a lot of materials for cartoons in recent years, but I don’t make them as often anymore. My grandfather makes a special appearance (as a mouse, of course) in A Year with the Nimblepaws. Including someone you love in a story is very satisfying, especially if you know that person will enjoy it. There are so many possibilities there that I haven’t fully comprehended yet, but I know there is more of that in my future.

These stories began as my way of coping with the fact that I was expecting our fourth child: the Nimblepaws are based on our family of six. Turns out, I’m pretty good at semi-autobiographical writing. AYWTN brought me the closest I’ve ever come to finding my true writer’s voice in ‘longer’ fiction. Write what you know- isn’t that the advice we hear?

Fences and Forest is my first attempt at an adventure story. Big stakes, large cast of characters, the rule of three, all that. And also, more mice. I may write more about Henry’s adventures in a future post.

Meet Henry, the protagonist in Fences and Forest.

Oh! I had the honor of having two of my poems published by Prolific Press. Who would have thought that my first successful venture into publishing would have been through haikus! You can read one of my poems here, in issue 55 of Haiku Journal.

My first poem appeared in Issue 12 of the 50 Haikus publication.

2017 was a good writing year. I learned what gave me freedom in writing: writing what I like, writing for people I love, writing for the joy of it. It was good to be a little less bound by expectations of what I ‘should’ be producing and write a little more fully from my heart.

How was your 2017 writing life? What did you learn, gain, and lose?

My Stories and Poems

A Triumph

I loved the Anne of Green Gables series, but was saddened/disappointed with Anne’s lack of writing opportunities later in life, though hardly surprised by it. Even given the limited writing and publishing opportunities for women of that era, I couldn’t let Anne’s ambition and skill come to nothing. This fanfic for her and for everyone who wanted more for our favorite redhead. And for me, because it gives me a chance to indulge in the purple prose popular in Montgomery’s day. The characters are from the later books in the series, but I borrowed some things from the original movies. 🙂 

Anne was tending her summer garden that day when Miss Cornelia marched down the lane. Dainty white and pink blooms floated in a sea of green that swam around the burnished bronze of her hair. The sun’s new warmth released a heady fragrance that seemed to hang about Anne’s head like a wreath. She filled her lungs with glory, kneeling in the dirt like a pilgrim who has at last reached her destination. By the time Anne looked up and and saw her friend, Miss Cornelia was quite close, and the good lady nearly gasped at the sight of Anne’s flashing green eyes.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was a girl of fifteen again,” Miss Cornelia said to herself. Indeed, if she had guessed half the reason for Anne’s happiness, she might have thought her declaration to be true.

“Good morning, Miss Cornelia!” Anne flew to unlatch the gate. “Join me on the porch won’t you? It’s too glorious a June day to be indoors.” Miss Cornelia assented with unusual silence and the two women settled themselves on the wicker chairs.

“Thank you, Susan dear,” said Anne as that industrious person laid a tray of sumptuous dainties before them.

“You’re welcome, of course, Mrs. Doctor dear. Miss Cornelia.” Susan nodded to their guest with a bit less warmth than to Anne, for it was a well known fact that she and Miss Cornelia did not wholly approve of each other. Miss Cornelia nodded stiffly in reply. Then, when Susan had gone, she descended in to what Anne had been waiting for: town gossip.

“Well, my dear, you’ll never guess the to-do,” she began. “The whole village is talking of it. A story of the most romantic nature has been published, by an anonymous local, no less, and everyone of us is dying to know who could have spun such a yarn.” Anne smiled into her tea.

“How interesting,” she said. “Do you know what it is about? Not that, for a moment, I would assume that you had read such a thing.” Miss Cornelia pursed her lips and her cheeks reddened. Anne failed to check her laughter. Miss Cornelia attempted to maintain innocence.

“I hear…from others, of course…it is a romance of a most unusual nature…a heroine who refuses her true love at first, and both of them have the most outrageous mishaps. Why, she nearly drowns, and he nearly dies of illness! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“I may have,” replied Anne.

“Not that,” Miss Cornelia continued, “It is written without skill. In fact, some who read it say they have rarely found a story so well constructed as this. A frivolous romance, without the ridiculousness. I dare say I don’t know how that can be, but that’s not my word, but theirs.”

“And has anyone guessed who the author might be?” Anne asked. Miss Cornelia frowned.

“That’s the trouble. There are no guesses that make sense. Oh, some people have guessed that Miss Clearwater might have done it, but she’s lived here for ten years. I’ve read one of her books and I can tell you my dear, she doesn’t have it in her. It’s a puzzle, a real puzzle.”

Anne silently pondered as she listened. She was just about to say something when her guest rose from her seat.

“Well, I must be going, Mrs. Blythe,” she announced. “I am sorry for such a short visit, but I have urgent errands in town. I just couldn’t let another day pass without telling you the news.” With that, Miss Cornelia bustled down the lane and out the gate, leaving Anne surprised at the abrupt departure.

“Perhaps next time, my dear friend,” she said.

Late that night the doctor returned. The house was still, but Anne had waited up. As she approached the study she heard a soft chuckle. Dr. Blythe stood at his desk, his back to the door, the local newspaper in his hand. Anne smiled.

“Now what is a story like this doing in our local paper?” The doctor spoke but did not turn around. “It must be the work of a strange out-of-towner, perhaps by the name of… Cordelia. Or is it Elaine?” He turned then, and his eyes had that impish gleam that reminded Anne of a dark haired boy in a country school from years ago.

“Surely you would not read such frivolousness,” Anne said. “ I seem to recall you saying once that such rubbish was-what was it? Mumbo jumbo?”

Dr. Blythe chuckled again. “Ah. Well. I think perhaps I, and the person who wrote this, have greatly improved in wisdom and understanding since those words were spoken. However,” he added. “There is one thing of vital romance that is missing from this story.”

Anne arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what is that, in your esteemed estimation, doctor?”

“Why my dear, spirited girl.” Dr. Blythe swooped Anne into his arms, eliciting a shriek from his unsuspecting wife. (“Susan is sure to complain about this tomorrow” was the general thought, quickly dismissed.) “There is absolutely no mention of a slate breaking upon the hero’s skull at all.” Anne, laughing, freed herself and faced her husband with mirth and mischief in her eyes.

“Oh Gilbert,” she laughed. “Any author knows that you cannot fit an entire novel’s worth of material into a single short story!”