Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Blog hop nominees

I’m all about sharing the love, so I chose three writers I would love to hear more from.

First may I introduce you to Sarah Rhea Werner and her alter ego who also lives here in paradise. (Actually today it almost was, but I digress.) She’s young, energetic and a believer in the words, especially when they’re put together in a way that makes them greater than their sum. I know that she’s going to bring it big. In the meantime, enjoy taking a look at what she writes – see link above – or follow her on Twitter at @sarahrheawerner.

My second nominee is Valerie Suydam who pens The Writer’s Code and can often be found tweeting @valeriesudyam. She writes a lot about writers, and she writes a lot about her perception of what they had to say. Visit, say hello and stay awhile.

My third nominee graciously declined to participate. Love her anyway. Visit her blog, The Freedom Experiment. You’ll find your self feeling better about life.

I’ve had fun blog hopping and have meandered in and out of lots of great blogs. Thanks again to Mrs Inger Anna Jones for the nomination.




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the writing life

source: morguefile

Feeling honored tonight to be invited to blog hop with friends who happen to write. Are there any other kind? Kidding of course, but I do treasure the people I meet who share my passion. Kinship is essential to my writing life. Since moving from Houston, Texas to Sioux Falls, South Dakota I’ve struggled to find a circle of writers that  understand this life and will have me. Thank you to all of you who make an attempt to “get me.”

This is how it works (I think). If you’re nominated, you answer four questions about writing (see below) and link back to the person that nominated you. You may meet a kindred spirit or two while you share your thoughts.

Thank you for the invite Inger. Your blog  inspires and I heartily recommend a visit to anyone interested in exploring the life. I can’t wait to check out the other bloggers you invited at The Kelswitch and Sally Ember Ed.D.  Let the blog hopping begin.

Why do I write what I write?

There is no good answer. I am a copywriter with a creative group by day. This pays my bills and gets my adrenaline pumping when deadlines loom and I deliver just the write headline. Given different life circumstances, I would give up the rush for solitude and a blank page. I have been working on a memoir which seems unfinishable, but that must somehow be finished because that is the only way I can make sense of all the things life has thrown my way. I write what I write because my business on the planet seems incomplete if I don’t hash it out, give it form and make it beautiful – or whatever it wants to be. I also have a tumblr because it allows room for small life observations that I find curious and want to share.

What am I working on? 

I’m working on the memoir mentioned above and a book of affirmations for kids. I started a chapter book for children that stalled when I had a baby at age 45. My son, who is now 6, indulges my imagination and sends me off in lots of different directions. This project remains on my list. I don’t consider myself a children’s author, but have had some success. Weird.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I like to think this book is different because, although it addresses spirituality, my growing sense of the divine feminine and a shift away from traditional beliefs, it has little to do with God and lots to do with discovering the inner guidance that has led me through all of life’s challenges – quietly, softly, but without my understanding that it even existed. More than anything, I believe that EVERY book is different, because every voice is different. We all have stories that only we can tell.

How does your writing process work?

With observation. I keep a journal and I’m committed to daily writing practice wherever it fits in my day. I scribble down the inspiration and when an hour opens up in my day, I sit with that observation, develop it, and let it take shape. When I give it the space to grow, it’s quick. The words know where to place themselves. When my creative spirit is drained, it waits for me to catch up. The most difficult part of my writing life is finding the juice after meeting writing deadlines all day at the office.


I feel blessed to know that writing makes sense in my world. If I am the only person that ever benefits from my words, it will be worth every second. I have made peace with knowing that some things I write are just for me.

Now, for the nominations…

They’ll have to wait. I must give it a little thought. Until tomorrow. In the meantime, I will be hopping blogs.

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Writing – a Crash Course

Writing is life. Like breathing, it’s essential to my being. I know this from the very center of myself. But last week I had this unusual and frightening thought. What if I am really not a writer? What if I have spent the last 40 years deluding myself?

This crashed my spaceship.

I was soaring along through the galaxy perfectly on course until a few weeks ago when the company I worked for as a copywriter decided they didn’t need me or a marketing department in our Iowa office. This made no sense in my universe. They wanted to change direction without me. Hadn’t I always delivered good copy? Hadn’t I come to work in the middle of blizzards to prove my dedication? Hadn’t I done all the things you’re supposed to do to keep your job? My head said yes, and my heart said, “You suck.”

writing my way back to earth

© Yelenademyanyuk | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

And then a friend of mine called me and asked if I was available to do some freelance writing. Maybe I didn’t suck. I did my homework and learned all about the client and got the job. But when I sat down to get writing…nothing.

So it was true. I suck.

I spent the next few days carrying around a notebook, thinking about a great beginning, and creating the story in my head. In the past, it always served me start on paper when I feel blocked. It’s organic and connects my heart to the paper. I scribbled. A lot. I brainstormed key words and wrote down catchy phrases. I reviewed my notes until I was ready. Then I approached the white screen. Nothing.

So I asked myself what I would do if I was forced to write something and I wasn’t a writer. It wouldn’t be nearly as challenging. It would just be a part of the job. My heart wouldn’t be involved. Mechanics is key. Make an outline. Flesh it out. Write it. Add the headlines and subheads last. After all, they’re just words.

So I tried to make an outline. Did I mention I don’t do my best work from an outline? This didn’t work either.

Self-doubt eats away at the soul, and mine was being devoured. I told myself to breathe. I ate chocolate. I drank too many cups of coffee and smoked a lot of cigarettes.

Finally I walked away.

Writing is solitary. Alone with my thoughts I entered the scary place. In that place I can’t write. In that place I’m a bad mom and a bad wife. In that place I should write letters to my aunts and go visit my parents more often. My life…epic fail.

It’s easy to get lost on that planet, where the terrain is unfamiliar and the silence deafening. I stayed for awhile – then I wanted to go back to earth.

To get grounded I talked to one of my biggest fans. He heard me out and nodded a lot. He didn’t give me a map, but reminded me that I know the way.

I stayed up the entire night writing. The result wasn’t great, but it was good, and clean, and definitely met the requirements of the job.

He was right. I do know the way. I also know that sometimes there’s a meteor shower, a lunar eclipse, and yes, even a system failure. Spaceships go off course, and sometimes they even crash. These detours can take me off on a new adventure, make me adapt and redirect. But only when I’m brave enough to face the page and suck once in awhile.

Today I don’t suck. I’m back on course. And I’m writing.

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I live in a boy house. This requires lots of love and a willingness to relinquish chick flicks, breakable knickknacks, and a less gentile way of life. In my house we wrestle, kill aliens, and shoot anything that moves. We wear superhero costumes and jump off of furniture to avoid the lava. Usually this is okay with me. I protect my family with the ferocity of a mommysaurus. But sometimes I roar. (more…)

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