Outtake from Fellowship & A Lesson

I’m deep in the last minute edits for Fellowship before I send it to the proofreader. Writing a book in the same world as My Soul to Keep that is not a sequel, has been interesting. So this week, I want to share an outtake from Fellowship and a lesson learned about writing before research. I am both a planner and a pantser. By that I mean, I write the story with a general outline. Since the outline isn’t very detailed I often go “off on a tangent.” I let the characters take me places that often end up on the cutting room floor as this excerpt did after I learned an important lesson. Before Research Ian opened and closed his fists over and over. It was weird. He’d never been afraid of hiking through the mountains before. It’s not right. Not fair. The Blue Ridge Mountains are my mountains. It was where Pop had taught him to hunt and fish and think. Pop was wrong about the Fellowship though. He thought it just needed some improvements. Pop used to talk about a time when he was young when he could walk where ever he wanted, even the streets of […]

Through the Haze, a Poem

Through the Haze is a poem I wrote a very long time ago. I wrote it during a time when my life had been turned upside down and nothing was comfortable or clear or certain. It is an uncomfortable poem from a troubled time. I am full grown, an adult.I had a childhood once.It is lost and I cannot find it.I search for a memory to cherish and findCurtains of fear and painAnd I don’t know why.The fear rises upThe curtains become walls of iron,But I must know.Fearful, hopeful, I tear a curtain down,And only get a glimpse, a fragment,More curtains, fear, and pain.The fear rises up.Do I really want to knowWhat is on the other side?I must.Terrified, I yank a curtain down.Too much, too soon.The curtains harden.Black walls with sharp edges.Do they hold me outOr hold me in?I cry with frustration, fear, and pain.My tears soften the wallsAnd I face the curtains again.Because I must. I am very fortunate. Caring therapists and friends and family helped me through that dark time. It took some time and a lot of soul searching. But I came out of that dark place. I can visit the things I wrote then without becoming […]

A Growl in the Dead of the Night

Years ago my husband was out of town and I was alone when I was awakened by a warning growl in the dead of the night. Our six-month-old Dalmatian pup had never growled before. He hadn’t even barked. That event sparked the inspiration for this vignette. I hope you enjoy it. The growling woke her. Sandy groggily shushed her dog, Max. Her usually obedient dog’s throat rumbled with a warning. Alarmed she rose on her elbows and whispered, “What is it, Max?”  The weatherman had predicted a thunderstorm for tonight. Was distant thunder what had upset Max? She listened. An eerie silence filled the air. There was no purr of the furnace, no hum of the refrigerator, no whoosh of tires on the asphalt street below her second-floor bedroom window. Max, a black and white Dalmatian, lay on the rug along her side of the bed, his head up, an ear cocked. He listened better than she did. She reached down and petted his hindquarters. He’s heard an outdoor cat. Max hated cats. “Go back to sleep, Max,” she whispered and sank back onto the bed.  Max’s tags on his collar jangled as he leaped to his feet. He walked […]