Morning Pages

Cut from the story but I still like it:

"He showed me how to kiss like they did in the movies, but I could never close my eyes, and this allowed me to observe that neither could he."

And:

"I did not wonder what Michael saw when he gazed at me with his dark eyes. His foolish soul, I could see it right there: he wanted inside me. Maybe he would get there soon enough, but he would never get to my secret plans."

Some Validation from the Missouri Review

It’s not an acceptance email, but still:

"We appreciate the confidence and talent that required you to take discontinuity to a microscopic level of emotion-in regard to this story, the level of sentence structure. Your clear, effective imagery allows that to work, for the most part. However, we feel that the story needs more refinement: more attention to those concrete images and characters, more to perceptions and minuscule pain, and less to abstract emotions.

Unfortunately this particular piece was not a right fit for Missouri Review, but we were very impressed by your writing. We hope that you will feel encouraged by this short note and send us something else.

We look forward to reading more.”

Who’s in?
I’m going to repurpose NaNoWriMo for revising. I already have the raw material ready, and as I revise each portion, I will use that as my daily word count.

Who’s in?

I’m going to repurpose NaNoWriMo for revising. I already have the raw material ready, and as I revise each portion, I will use that as my daily word count.

I don’t know who those guys are, and I don’t care. This photo is just to document one of my favorite writing places, the Starbucks (that’s right, I said it) at 82d Avenue and Johnson Creek Blvd. You’re looking at one of two writing nooks; I’m sitting in the other nook, my table and my iPad being in the foreground. This was my writing place on Saturday or Sunday mornings, very early. I could write, swing by Trader Joes, and be back home before anyone else, even the dog, had awakened.

I’m capturing all these places before they’re lost to me; the fact is, I work almost entirely at home.

I don’t know who those guys are, and I don’t care. This photo is just to document one of my favorite writing places, the Starbucks (that’s right, I said it) at 82d Avenue and Johnson Creek Blvd. You’re looking at one of two writing nooks; I’m sitting in the other nook, my table and my iPad being in the foreground. This was my writing place on Saturday or Sunday mornings, very early. I could write, swing by Trader Joes, and be back home before anyone else, even the dog, had awakened.

I’m capturing all these places before they’re lost to me; the fact is, I work almost entirely at home.

The most critical marketing tactic that a writer can do is to continue to write really good work. It’s that simple, and that hard.

Cut from the Story, but I Still Like It

"After the thunderstorm, my dad, my sister, and I took a walk in the electric air, and my dad told us about the sparkling stars that used to be. He pointed at the North Star, fixed in place and dim as dust, and he warned that soon it would be gone. He pointed a blaming finger toward the light from Denver, a pale swollen glow on the horizon."