Thanks for stopping by last week and learning about the awesome MG novel The Boy Who Howled by Timothy Power.
The lucky winner of a beautiful hardcover copy, chosen by a random number generator, is Terron James. Congrats!!
I spent the winter revising two novels and now, after a two week break, am starting a new book.
You know how sometimes a premise strikes you like lightning and you are off and running….or sometimes you have to write around an idea for a while before the real idea makes itself known?
Whether you’re a plotter or panster, or, like me, you fall somewhere in between, starting to write a new book can be both exciting and daunting.
At a conference a few years ago Will Hobbs said that writing a novel is an act of faith. When I think about what Will said, two things come to mind:
1. Go into the process with an open mind. I won’t know how it will turn out unless I try.
2. Keep pushing ahead, not with the belief that I’ll definitely come out with a viable story even though I obviously hope I will, but with the idea that I’ll just continually strive to do the best that I can because that is all I can do.
So, if you see me walking around talking to myself this week, don’t worry, it’s just part of the process. Sometimes I burn things on the stove, too.
Happy Writing, friends!!
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You’ve probably heard the true story about Aron Ralston and the brave choices he made when he was trapped alone with his arm pinned between a boulder and a canyon wall. He did an amazing thing by cutting off his own arm in order to survive.
You might live your entire life never being forced to confront the the possibility of your own death if you don’t take drastic action like Aron had to. I hope we all do.
However, my friend Kevin pointed out that we all make choices in our lives that play into our longevity and that Aron’s choices in those 127 hours was equivalent to having your entire life compressed into a very short time.
How we live plays a role in how long we live, and the tiny choices we make daily add up over time, just like the choices Aron made in the five and half days he was trapped.
Life isn’t just about how long we live. However, Kevin’s comment heightened my awareness about how the small choices I make daily play into my own longevity.
I don’t have a recipe for how to live. Some heavy smokers live to be a hundred and some really healthy people die young. Right? We have no control over the genetic hand we’re dealt. And yeah, you could be run over by a bus or hit by a falling icicle tomorrow. There are no guarantees.
Still, Kevin’s comment was an invitation to be more conscious. It helped me to see that even the small choices I make matter.
Thanks for stopping by. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
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We took a little detour on the way to Sedona.
Last week, we hung out with my brother and his wife in the Caribbean on a little island called St. Bart’s. Through his work my brother has access to a house St. Bart’s for one week a year. They’ve invited us in the past but we’ve never been able to go because we were both teaching, and school was in session. So, we seized the moment.
Needless to say, we had a great time. Warm air. Warm ocean. Wonderful people.
Writing wise, I didn’t work on the two YA novels I’ve been rewriting. Nor did I start a third one that I have plans for.
Instead, in my journal I scribbled a rough draft of a picture book about a boy on the beach, which stretched my writer-mind. Having only 500 words to tell a story really makes you pick them carefully.
The time off from the YA novels was good for me. Physically, it helped to heal up my wrist. And mentally, sometimes distance from my work is the missing ingredient in being able to see the way forward.
This week I’ll be revising a YA novel that is just past the first draft stage.
I’m also working out some internet connection issues. New place. New network. My computer and the wireless router here just aren’t communicating the way they should be. Luckily, my wife’s computer and the router have hit it off. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to post this.
What are you working on this week?
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The house is in order, ready for our friend to take over for a while.
"We should try cleaning it like this when we're actually going to be here. What a concept."
We’ll be leaving early Friday morning. Yikes! That’s Tomorrow!
"Hm....I wonder if I've got everything I need?"
After a couple of stops to visit friends and family, and to dip our toes into some warm ocean water, (it’s kind of a crazy amount of flying), we’ll be resurfacing in the red rock country of Northern Arizona around November 21st and will be there for a few months.
If you missed the explanation about why we are leaving Alaska for a little while, you can read about it here.
I’ll have WiFi here and there along the way so you might see me on Twitter or on your blog, but I probably won’t post here until we arrive in Arizona on the 21st.
Thanks for stopping by. Have a great week!
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A couple of days ago I was in Indiana visiting my parents. I was taking a walk down the middle of a narrow tree-lined street when I heard a loud, splatting noise behind me, like someone had dropped twenty gallons of Jello from the tree-tops onto the road. It was loud, people.
I turned around. And behind me, on the road, was a fox squirrel laying limp. I didn’t have my camera with me but you know what they look like.
well-fed fox squirrel
I glanced upward. The nearest branch was at least thirty feet off the ground. Five seconds earlier and I’d have broken that squirrel’s fall with my head.
Anyway, I was pretty sure it was dead but I was still fascinated. I mean, I’ve seen a squirrel fall out of a tree and land on leaves and spruce needles and then run away, but this was pavement.
So, I took a step toward the motionless squirrel. My brain was a mix of sadness for the squirrel, and researcher for my writing. How did it die? Why did it fall? Poor thing. It looks so healthy otherwise.
I took another step toward the squirrel and it started to shake. I turned to my wife and said. “It’s moving.” Is it in pain? Is it having a seizure? What should I do? Am I going to be faced with the possibility of ending its suffering? If I get too close, will it try to bite me like an abandoned seal pup did years ago?
I took another step toward it and it started moving—slowly—very slowly—like slow motion-slowly, toward the base of the tree it’d fallen from. It looks like all its legs are working. It’s kind of shaky, but it’s walking.
Then it did something amazing. It proceeded to climb the very tree it’d fallen from just forty seconds ago.
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