I had not worked on If A Tree Breaks, as David’s story has been officially re-titled, since May when life shifted from regularly scheduled to upended again. It both exasperated and delighted me that, as soon as I sat down for a fourth edit, I put red all over the first page. When I looked back at the previous edit there was very little red on the first page. But this story has massively evolved over the more than decade that it’s been with me. At the time of its inception, I could not have written the story that I have now.Continue reading
Note: The header image for this post was taken four years ago today. Unfathomable, the distance between there and now. This sequence is day four/five, depending how I count the drop-off day. In the second iteration of this novel written in 2014, it was also the opening scene.
A dull flush had started under Bailey’s brown cheeks, but at David’s name he paled even faster, dark eyes lit by the sun as he turned on David. “Do you want to be trailblazer?” he asked, the corners of his mouth pinched together as he spoke.
Pressing down a brief, contrary urge, he quietly said, “No.”
“But David, you did it the other day,” Gavin argued with him. “Remember? You’ve really done it already.”
“Those are trails already there on the North Hill,” Bailey snapped. “He said he doesn’t want to, so lay off.”
“That sounds fun.” Gavin and Bailey winced as Rio had come over to them unnoticed. “What’s the issue?”Continue reading
Red cedar, Douglas fir and the whippy limbs of cherry trees lined the highways David was used to, blackberry bramble piled and tangled around everything, visual barriers and wind breaks under nearly constant rain. That was not where his mother brought him now. The Camry was not designed for the rugged maneuvering on this pitted, rutted, unpaved road. Her grip was white-knuckled and she sat forward so her chin was above the steering wheel, but the tight line of her mouth never split to voice uncertainty or anxiety.
Oak and maple spread endlessly in every direction, thick trunks and coarse bark. Scattered white pine in straight columns mixed needles in the leaves. They could rarely see more than a hundred yards ahead or backward before another twist of the road, and when the unclouded sun broke through the dense canopy the contrast blinded. The edges long ago washed away and bared roots, grass and fern crowded in on the open ground and sunlight.Continue reading
I have been skimming through and organizing notebooks and old bits of writing. I liked this one, and it will be folded into a character’s backstory.
Elise heard her mother calling from downstairs. Eyes thick and blurred, she shoved aside clinging covers and stumbled across the room. She might have tumbled straight down the stairs, but bony fingers grasped her shoulders and dragged her back. By habit, Elise clamped her mouth shut instead of screaming. Her grandmother smelled of lavender and sour alcohol and whispered to her ear, “I hear it, too.”
Her voice so close to Elise woke her properly and she knew her mother was dead. They stared together down the unlit stairs, waiting.Continue reading
I have read through all the content on this blog in the last couple of days, primarily adding links, cleaning up typographical errors, and despite strongly desiring to actually edit a lot of the content, only removed a word or two that I just couldn’t leave alone. It’s meant to stand as archive and evidence of evolution.
At the beginning of March I completed a new draft of Sun Warm Stone, a varied title from what it was before, and still standing as the narrative I’ve completed more than any other. I’m satisfied enough to go forward editing, revising, editing and releasing it, at this point. Yay, I’m going to be an author! Although I think I will fire off a few query letters to agents or publishers, research pending, I’m strongly confident that Sun Warm Stone is going to be too challenging for any traditional publisher to be willing to take on, so my trajectory is for self-publication. Lots and lots of legal and building research going on right now.
The blog is cleaned up, I have other social media to create—as of today, I do not have a Twitter, Instagram, SnapChat or most other popular platform for reaching an audience. I’m working on it. Check back for updates, the barren last couple of years are going to be left behind!
Red cedar, Douglas fir and the whippy limbs of cherry trees lined the highways David was used to. Weeds, undergrowth and bramble piled and tangled around slim trunks, visual barriers and wind breaks. Green ways and nature centers with dirt or gravel footpaths, muffling some human noise. Sunlight filtered through pollution and mixed canopies of leaves and needles.
That was not where his mother brought him now. Her Camry was not designed for the rugged maneuvering on the pitted, rutted, unpaved road. Clara’s grip was white-knuckled and she sat forward so her chin was above the steering wheel, but the tight line of her mouth never split to voice uncertainty or anxiety.Continue reading
A new project, barely proofed, WIP. Fantasy fiction.
Zyla and the Sorrow
Life had become soft, anyway. Zyla woke by habit, first birds singing and no other exceptional noise in the deep breath of the day. Not thirsty or empty, she stretched the length of her limbs after leaving the covers of her bed.
Then the sharp rap against the door. Every alert instinct snapped, and Zyla knew the soft waiting would be over. She answered the door calmly.
“Port Protector summons you, Wallsman,” the youth had to step back and tip his head to look at her face. He was sweating and pale, sleepless bruises showing in the dim glow from the moon. Continue reading
A diary style entry. Briefly. A leap day.
Another year, don’t really know how much time has passed. I created this blog in the first place to concentrate the exposure of my creative output. I must claim control of my life and writing in a new way. New for me, not strictly original. After all, I cannot be the first blogger, first dreamer, first failure, at this point. Continue reading
A Whack Dream About Pancakes
Pancakes have been on my mind for a couple of weeks, because I had eggs, but not a lot of eggs, and I’m really not a lover of cooking. There’s a process and clean-up that go hand in hand. Scrambled eggs are more protein, less carbs and way simpler process and clean-up than pancakes. Continue reading
Finished filling a journal today. Picked up another I knew had a few used pages. Found three scraps tucked in the back from last summer. A flight itinerary, a time sheet, a page of yellow legal pad.
Copyright note, there are some lyrics of Nahko and Medicine for the People slipped in the second part, “Wash It Away.”
Take a Walk
Take a walk on the beach
Take a walk at the cliff Continue reading