Friday, February 22, 2008


I’ve been missing in action and hitting the pages. Yes those empty pages of my novel that had been patiently waiting since last spring. I understand why writers write every day. One skipped day becomes two, then three, then months. Next thing you know, you’re not a novel writer anymore.

My Christmas gift to myself was to buy a ticket back on the wagon. I joined a novel writing group through Writer’s Digest and 10,000 words are due every three weeks. I needed the self-imposed deadline. Also, we are required to critique each other’s work. The quality and diversity of the other work is humbling and inspiring. It’s just what I needed. I’m enjoying myself more than I have in a long, long time.

Why do writers sometimes avoid what we love to do? Is it fear or laziness? I’m not sure. It’s hard work but nothing, other than parenting, is more rewarding to me. Actually, it’s like parenting - the pregnancy and giving birth bit. I’ll let you know when the novel is born.

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