- The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing: isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination and consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that’s on a good day. (Robert De Niro)
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Tag Archives: Writing
My Internal Editor Got Kicked in the Ass
Through the power of WordPress I “met” another blogger over the past couple of weeks. We’ve had quite the dialogue via comments. I was sharing with her that I’m suffering through a severe bout of writer’s block. On some level … Continue reading
A Delayed Omen
Back in March I wrote about my visit to the Cosumnes River Preserve. While there, I met a few white herons — a creature that plays a critical role in one of my works in progress — The Irrepairable Past. I … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Cosumnes River Preserve, Fiction, The Irrepairable Past, White Heron, Writing
8 Comments
Was My Year A Success
For a long time I have felt like I’m not writing enough. Yesterday, I realized it may be that I’m being too hard on myself. About a year ago, I wrote a short story called Northville Five & Dime. I’m … Continue reading
My Writing Process
Why Do I Write What I Do The simple answer is … because it’s what in my head. The hard answer … I really don’t know. I write the stories that are in my head. Okay this isn’t working. I … Continue reading
To Believe in an Omen
Today is one of those holidays us California government employees get that nobody else does. Cesar Chavez Day, to honor a man who was the Martin Luther King, Jr., for migrant farmworkers. A day off when nobody else has it … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Choices, Cosumnes River Preserve, The Irrepairable Past, White Heron, Writing
16 Comments
There Are No Rules!!!
Except for those that work for you. Well, except for one. I’ve been doing this fiction writing thing for a little over ten years now. I’ve been to two writing conferences. The first was way back at the beginning of … Continue reading
Northville!!!
I learned something from Pete that summer. I wasn’t the ugly duckling I thought I was. I was more than my legs, more than my wheelchair. There was something inside me that a guy could find beautiful. When Joey asked … Continue reading
