Can you write?

writing, create, write, blog, authorsCan you write:  if your #2 pencils are not sharpened?  If your desk is messy or clean?  If you haven’t showered?  If the wrong music is playing?

I have been writing non-stop since seven in the morning.  I got up, fed the dogs and the cat, put on my pot of tea,  put the dogs out, washed my face, brought the dogs in, and then sat down just to check my e-mail.  It’s one o’clock in the afternoon and I’m still in my night-gown with a T-shirt hurriedly thrown over it, bare footed, , drinking cold tea, and still at it.  My cat is sprawled over my desk to the left of the keyboard (for once, she’s not walking on it, adding words I don’t want, like  ddddrrrrzzzzzzzzz and qqqqqqqppppbbb4bbbb.)  I am in my studio surrounded by art that I love, mementos that I have collected, photos of people I love or have loved, and my siren’s song calls……..writ.process

I’m probably undiagnosed ADD because, all at the same time, I’m editing my second children’s book preparing it for audio production, writing this blog, and corresponding with my producer for the new audio-book.

These are some of my rituals as I greet each day.   I thought it would be fun to read about other authors’ rituals and processes in a casual and intimate look behind the scenes into their world.  The new series begins this Tuesday, Jan. 15th.

I have had a wonderful response from other authors and plan on featuring an interview at least once a month .  I have invited such luminaries as:  Ann Purser (our first interview) Dean Koontz, Sheryl Woods, Jo-Ann Mapson, Mark Childress, Charles Bukowski, Elizabeth Gilbert, Walter Mosley, Nora Roberts, and many others.

So come along with me, we shall sneak into these writers’ special places, be a fly on the wall and watch them create! write, create, writing, authors, blog

Rain essays and more from this writer…

rain essays, poetry, love, betrayal, loss, friendship, writings, musings, An excerpt from the "Rain Essays" and 
part of my book of poetry.  

Rain on the Face of Africa

  The great Serengeti’s broad face lies in the African sun,

 dry, weathered, cracked, thirsty for the season’s tears

Storm clouds gather on her brow like an old lady’s curls

Promises, promising, an empty promise

                                The rains are too late. The children of the Serengeti

                                    lie down on her dusty bosom, never to rise again

                             A desperate waiting fills the air Continue reading “Rain essays and more from this writer…”