It is impossible to discourage the real writers – they don’t give a damn what you say, they’re going to write. ~Sinclair Lewis

I truly enjoyed writing my first book. It was a work I did for NaNoWriMo ( – National Novel Writing Month), which explains why I hastily wrote it in two weeks and it is only a little over 50,000 words. But I had fun with it. It was a story that’s been in my head for a few years and I was never quite able to get it out. I do give my fiancee much credit for putting up with my being on the computer 24/7. The more I work on my second novel (with a goal of 100,000 words), the more I realize how much better I could have done on The Thirteenth Step. I wish I had not rushed through it and taken more care in proofreading and editing. I am my own worst critic. I was just so excited to have finally written a novel. I was so proud.

We do learn from our mistakes, which is why I am taking a lot of time on my current work and am enjoying the process. I’ve been reading books about writing books – opinions on them? – and gleaning what I can. I have always had a love for language and grammar – I studied Spanish from middle school into college (pero hace muchos años que lo estudie en el colegio – if any of my grammar is off, for you Spanish speakers, please correct me c: ). I’d love to be fluent in Spanish, or I’d at least settle for reading an entire book in Spanish.

Being done with my ramblings, I’d just like to say that I commend all you other authors of fiction, non-fiction, bloggers, poets, columnists, etc. out there who refuse to give up.

It is impossibl…

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Posted by on March 14, 2014 in text, Uncategorized


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Amy glanced at me when I walked into the room and eased myself into one of the loveseats. There was concern there in her dark eyes. I looked away, feeling ashamed. I toyed with a fray in my sweatpants, staring at my lap. The room filled up around me. I felt someone sit down next to me as the seat sunk just a bit. I continued to listen to the chatter that filled the room.
“Hi,” said a male voice from the body sitting next to me. I looked up slowly, not really sure why this person was talking to me. I’m sure I looked hideous and the expression on my face probably said, “Leave me the hell alone.” His expression was odd when I finally looked at his face. My breathing stopped for just a brief moment. He didn’t look like a supermodel or some fictional vampire everyone raved about, but he was good looking. He had messy, dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was not much older than me, maybe by a few years I guessed. He had olive skin, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His face looked a little rough, with a five o’clock shadow, yet somehow it suited him. Most people looked rough coming in here for their first day or so. I still looked rough, I gathered. He smiled a half smile and spoke.
“I’m Vincent,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand. I looked at his hand and tentatively put mine out to shake it. His handshake was firm.
“Hayden,” I replied, my voice still hollow from my recent solitude. He looked at me oddly, as if trying to gauge my attitude. At that time Amy called the group to attention. My head snapped up, and I could feel color flooding to my cheeks, but I didn’t understand why I was flushed. I didn’t usually care about who anyone else was in this dump, but somehow he struck me as different.

Hayden meets Vincent at Oak Forest – how would you respond if you were Hayden?

Amy glanced at …

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Posted by on February 28, 2014 in Uncategorized


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