Updates on writing


I am overdue on blog entries. But my writing time has been consumed by the constant editing of my novel. And I have to say, YAY! I’m dying to read it properly without having to think about fixing things. Like a movie, just like I used to do when I was younger. Lately whenever I try to sleep with a story in my head, it takes a minute before I am asleep. So I haven’t been enjoying my own stories much. After I read it I will be looking for beta readers. I have two so far. I really need people who adore reading, like an obsession. So I’m holding myself back from asking my friends to read it. I might not hear a word if they read it or not for long months haha. I have busy or lazy friends.


Nanowrimo. Quick jump, but that is what I get when I don’t post in so long. I am dying to start. My fingers itch as I hold myself from typing that first scene. I know what it is, and I have it in quick scribbles. But I am honestly dying to type it. But I can’t. I must proceed to do the outline. Which I am, with some help. I have learned a lot about novel structure these past few weeks. Surprisingly I did very well on my first without this knowledge, just needed to fix some points.


Last week I read a blog entry in Write’s Digest. A writer’s mind. I won’t look for the link right now but it made me go “oooooohhhhhhh!” The writer was telling about how she wondered if other people thought in stories. When waiting in a long line, or doing the dishes, or even taking a shower, what is it you think about the most? And just like her, mine is stories. And it struck me. Not because I find it weird. But because when I think about the other thing I do, draw, I find myself unable to recall any moment where my mind wonders off into art related subjects. None. Unless my intention is to do art, this was never the case. While it was however filled with stories, and places and people. And then I realized also, the reason I drew so much, was in an attempt to get those images out to the world, in a fail attempt that is. And at some point in life, I discovered how to use words to do it. And a love for words grew. A love for images and letters and how each stroke combined creates a picture, just like with painting.

I began, and now I can’t stop.

she writes