The Odyssey of Writing a Bestseller (I can dream, can’t I?!)

A little over 10 years ago, I saw a video of a busy city street with crowds of people on the sidewalk and small dragons fluttering down like pigeons looking for food. That image sparked several questions. What would a high fantasy world look like after 2000 years or more of technological advancement? Would magic be old-fashioned? Would technology remove the need for magic and it became lost? Or would magic reduce the need to develop technology in the same way we had?

 The story began to unfold. It seemed that kids in that world would see magic as boring. Much like this world, tech is where it’s at. In my first draft, Will was my protagonist, but I realized I was playing into what had been provided to me… another story about a boy out having adventures.

Here’s a little tidbit about me. I read a lot of books like My Friend Flicka when I was a kid. All the stories I read were about boys having adventures on ranches in the West. Is it any wonder I went to bed at night praying, “Dear God, when I wake up, please make me a boy living on a ranch in the West.” Representation does matter.

 I knew I wanted the protagonist to be a strong, smart girl, and suddenly the story got a lot more interesting. Opal became the lead, and Will her sidekick. The book went through a complete rewrite, and it took many versions to get all the pronouns switched, too. Those pesky pronouns.

Having done so much rewriting, it was time I hired an editor. I hired big-timey editor, one far better than I deserved at that point. Looking back at those early drafts, my writing was awful. It was repetitive, as I tried to find just the right way to get my point across. Having come from 20 years of writing screenplays, I was woefully in need of more description. Screenplays are stripped-down, efficient means of getting visuals across to the director. Books require pulling the reader in with lush description or rapid action, depending on what’s needed in the scene.

The story was there, and the setting was original, but my writing skills needed improvement. Still, I began sending off query letters to agents, even as I kept pumping out edited versions of Fear Unleashed, hoping someone might recognize the excellent story under my bad writing. No one ever requested more pages. It was demoralizing.

Despite the rejection, I started writing book two. I was about halfway through when I decided that if agents weren’t going for this book, it was silly to write a sequel. Self-publishing was a thing, but at that time, it was considered the last resort, and traditional publishing was still what everyone wanted. Not seeing a point in continuing, I abandoned the project and wrote a different book about a girl who finds an old camera that takes her on adventures in time. I developed enough time travel plot twists to span a series. Someday I’ll get back to that one, too.

From time to time, I’d take another stab at Fear Unleashed. I hired another editor to try to clean up the mess I’d made with my multiple edits. Then life happened. Due to stress and other factors, I stopped writing and even lost interest in it. When I went into freelance writing and editing, it became work I did for others, but wasn’t doing for myself.

 That is, until one night at a networking event. Someone asked me what I did, and when I answered I was a writer and editor, they asked, “Have you published anything?” This is a common question when you say you write. And I gave my standard response, “No, not yet. But I’m working on it.”

But inside, I knew that wasn’t true. Yes, I had three completed books on my hard drive, but I wasn’t actively working towards publishing any of them. What was wrong with me? I didn’t ever want to give that answer again without knowing I was working toward publication.

I went home after that, determined to pull Fear Unleashed up and start working on it again. It was better than I remembered. I had my last editor’s notes and began the work of completing those edits. I found a cover artist. I started to research the steps to self-publishing. Then a publishing date was set.

Now, here I sit with a completed novel that I love, just waiting for the map to be done. While I wait, I keep reading it over and over. I enjoy it so much. I can’t wait for other people to read it too.

Years ago, I heard the saying, “Art is never finished, only abandoned.” I fully understand that saying now. With each read, I find a little word to tweak here, or a phrase to drop there. At some point, I’m just going to have to abandon it and hope for the best.

The marketing portion of this project is my weak point. The good thing is that as a self-published author, I can keep pushing it until it finds an audience. Traditional publishers pretty much abandon a book, marketing-wise, after the release. I will keep trying to find people who enjoy it, and hope for a little luck.

As soon as I upload the book, I will order a proof of the paperback so I can read it and make sure the layout is good. I look forward to holding the book in my hands. And I can’t wait until the next time someone asks me if I’ve published anything. I can’t wait to answer, “Yes! The book is Fear Unleashed. You can get it at any bookstore or on Amazon.”

I’ll let those on my mailing list know when pre-orders can be placed. You can join the mailing list, read more about the history of this planet, and learn more about the characters there. You can even read the first chapter at fearunleashedbook.com.

Fear Unleashed will be available in paperback on August 6th. You can purchase it from Amazon, or go to any bookstore and request a copy there. The ebook will be available at a future date.

I can’t wait to know other people are holding my story in their hands, and going on a grand adventure with Opal and Will through familiar, yet unique landscapes and cultures. I hope the book’s readers come to love these characters and their world as much as I do.

Oops, I Did it Again

If there were a theme to the story of my life, it would be leaps of faith. I’ve covered that history in the last blog post. And by now, I guess it’s just become a habit because I’ve taken another leap. About two months ago, I decided to take a risk and invest in my future. My somedays are running out at my age, and if someday isn’t today, it will never be. I felt like I could not move forward with freelancing if I couldn’t go at it full-time. So, I made my plans, discussed them with various people to ensure I was doing the right thing, and gave two months’ notice at my job.

The first month was hard. Once I had made the decision, I just wanted to be gone. But I wanted to allow the business the time to find the right person to replace me, and I needed to get some of my ducks in a row. I did notice that my sleep became more restful, and I began to dream regularly and in vivid colors. It was confirmation that I was doing the right thing.

March flew by, and here we are. I did my best in the time allowed to pass on as much knowledge of my job to the new person, but it isn’t until you try to teach what you know that you realize just how much you know. I’d been running a business for nine years. I had the names and faces of hundreds of people in my head. I know about their spouses, partners, kids, jobs, pets, and hobbies. I know about their accounts and who needs to be billed in what way – email, in person, or not at all… just run their card. There were schedules to keep track of, payroll, record keeping, taxes, etc. I know the ins and outs of the software we use and how to deal with each issue. I have deadlines and recurring tasks jumbled around in my brain, fighting for attention. I would often wake up in the middle of the night, worrying about what needed to be done and how to handle it or thinking of things that had slipped through the cracks.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t hate my job. I may have hated some things about it, like multi-tasking and constant interruptions, but I loved our clients. I loved seeing them every week, and I will miss them terribly. I loved being good at what I did. I loved being of service.

As I fell asleep last night, the thoughts of things that needed attention started to stir, and I had to remind myself that those things were no longer my concern. I could let them go. Joy flooded through me. When I saw myself going forward, doing various tasks, it was almost as if I was dancing, leaping, and twirling through them in my mind. I couldn’t sleep because the muscles that kept me smiling wouldn’t relax.

I suddenly understood why I hadn’t been able to write. Writers need time to daydream. They have to stare off into space and let stories and ideas bounce into their brains. But every time I would try to do that, a thought about a task at work would pop up. There was no room in my brain for creativity, no room for daydreaming. I had lost who I was.

Last night, I attended a talk from Shelby Van Pelt, who wrote Remarkably Bright Creatures. As she discussed her writing process and the magic of having miraculous ideas appear at just the right time, I felt the embers of my writing flare to life. I hadn’t felt that in years. I couldn’t wait to start crafting characters and having them tell me who they are and what they do. I couldn’t wait to feel the magic as those characters created a compelling story. I felt myself return to who I am. There is no joy quite like that.

There will be bumpy days ahead as I build clientele and struggle to make ends meet. But I also know I can do it with a lot of hard work. That work will build my future and my dreams, which will make it not quite so hard.

One of my coworkers had a magnet on her locker that said something like, “True friends walk with you through the shadows and dance with you in the sunshine.” To those who stayed with me in the darkness, provided a light and let me lean on them, I thank you. Sun’s out. Let’s dance!

Finding my Way With The Artist’s Way

Over the past month I have had moments where I almost get back into a writing flow. Then I sit down, try to do the work, and quickly give up. It’s been frustrating!

After much thought, I have begun to understand that I am, for the first time in my life, dealing with… (duh duh duuuuuuh)… Writer’s Block. I always thought writer’s block was when you couldn’t think of anything to write. There are lots of things to write, I’m just no longer sure there’s any reason to bother. 

Even my imagination isn’t helping. One way I used to fall asleep easily at night was to start imagining a story. Before long sleep would take me. But now when I try to do that, I quickly revert back to thoughts about my own life. I used to spend about 80% of my time in my imagination as a kid, and now I can’t get it going at all. 

Imagination drove stories and hope for me. I could see the possibilities of life out there, and they made for good stories. But as I’ve been worn down by life, the possibilities seem less and less. 

For the past two years I have gone to work, while others were paid to stay home. And for the past two years I have stayed home, while others went out to play with little regard for the role that might have in transmitting a virus that was deadly to some. So all work, and no play, has led to a blocked me. Covid, my finances, my age… all are working against me, and my ability to see possibilities. 

In trying to figure out how to combat this situation, I pulled out my copy of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I had first used it in the 90s. It had survived my yearly culling of books, and still sat on my shelf. I decided it was time to return to the program. It mentioned that you could do it on your own, or with a group of people, and suddenly doing it on my own seemed empty. I got a group of friends and we invited a few others, and we now meet weekly on Zoom to discuss what we’ve learned and the progress we’ve made. It’s so fun to share this journey.

We’re on week one, and already I feel a lightening of spirit and a sense of play I’ve been missing. I bought a paint by number kit, which I know isn’t really artistic, but it’s something I’ve never done as an adult. Also purchased, some watercolor and acrylic paints to try to make some original art when the paint by number is done. My final purchase… decent snow boots so I can take walks even when it’s cold and snowy. Imagining doesn’t feel quite so futile. It feels like there are things I want to accomplish. It feels like maybe I could accomplish them. I’m finding my way with The Artist’s Way.

Have you ever had writer’s block, or whatever art you practice? What did you do to get out of it? If you’re blocked now, give The Artist’s Way a try.

Trimming the Sails

Happy New Year! The new year is always a time for reflection, and sitting at home, waiting for the results of a covid test to see if I had a cold or omicron, gave me even more time to reflect and think about where I’m going. So let me post about what I’ve reflected on. Perhaps you can find some parallels to your struggles.

Last year everyone was so happy to put 2020 behind them. I kept wondering why they thought 2021 would be different. It wasn’t. More masks. More misinformation creating more division. More financial struggles. 

My personal year was a mixed bag. I started out with the high of planning to self-publish my first novel. I hired an editor and went back to work on the manuscript. Just as I finished that, I was suddenly forced to look for housing in the worst market in decades. I got lucky and found a place not yet listed, but because of the rushed need for a place to live, I didn’t look into things as well as I should have, and am stuck with a house which I love, but has some real problems that will cost me a great deal of money down the road. Money I don’t really have. It was an emotional blow.

The pandemic began to take its toll. I wanted to reconnect socially – have some fun and rediscover the joy of living. But every time I considered a solution, because of my work with vulnerable people, covid seemed to stop me. The desire to write seemed to fade away for the first time in my life and I decided to let it go.

A slide into depression followed. I felt disconnected, distrustful, defeated, exhausted, and hopeless. Little slights were magnified. I lost all confidence in myself. It isn’t the first time I’ve struggled with depression (I am Scandinavian after all), and thankfully I’ve developed tools to recognize and deal with it. It took time and there were more lessons learned from this battle. Even after the depression faded, I found it almost impossible to write, though ideas kept forming… niggling… speaking quietly that my calling hadn’t left me.

On the first day of 2022, the test came back negative. Despite my sniffles, I am once again free to move about without worrying about the consequences for others. I am now poised for action and while I can’t say I make resolutions, my time of reflection made me realize I do want to trim the sails on my boat and capture the wind to move in a different direction. 

One priority is my health. I’m starting out with a reset for my liver and taste buds with a cleanse. (I hate the click bait title, but the cleanse is great.) I want to eventually get the pandemic stress weight off and go back to where I feel good in my body. I don’t want to overwhelm myself with the end goal. I want to think about today and what needs to be done today.

Another priority is my writing. Yesterday I pulled up my first book and looked at the editor’s notes. There was so much positive. I started to edit again and felt the embers flicker into a small flame. The love is still there. There are several ideas I’d like to flesh out a little more and perhaps get started on them as well. I’ve realized that self-publishing is the way to go. I want two things. I want to write. And I want my stories to be read. Self-publishing accomplishes that, without the stupidity of the publishing industry.

And my last priority for 2022 is social. I have to find a way to reconnect. One barrier to that is the very, very thick walls I’ve constructed after years and years of hurt. This last depression revealed how easy it is to reopen old wounds and those walls do nothing to prevent that. I need to figure out how to take the walls down and find a way to trust, and I believe forgiveness is the key to that so that I can form closer bonds. I’m hoping that omicron will bring the end of the pandemic and make it an endemic disease that isn’t nearly so serious for so many. I want to get out there and have fun with people. Find joy, fun, spontaneity. 

With the sails trimmed, I hope my boat sails through whatever 2022 throws at me.

That’s my year in review and what I’m looking forward to. What have you learned from 2021? What do you hope to do in 2022? Leave me a comment and share your experience. 

Moving On

Writing is a journey, and there is so much to learn along the way. One of the things you must learn is when it’s time to move on. I knew the odds of publishing my very first novel were slim. It didn’t stop me from loving the book and trying my best. It has been through many revisions, and no one has shown much interest. I still believe in it, but know it needs help that I don’t have. So I had to take a hard look and decide it was time to move on. Doing that in the midst of the stress of a pandemic and social unrest made me feel a bit like this.

While querying, editing, and querying again, I also wrote two other books. One is another children’s book that I have yet to even begin editing. The other is my memoir, detailing the 25 years I spent in the entertainment industry. I was able to use the stay-at-home order to find more time to finish it and finally pare it down to find its form.

I thoroughly enjoyed going through my work orders, reading my journals, and falling deep into the memories of the time spent with Kevin Costner in South Dakota, or with Bob Hoskins on a soundstage at Television City, I relived the infamy of turning off Bill Clinton’s mic in the middle of a speech, and the sublime feeling of standing on the field of an NFC championship game with my eyes closed, imagining what it would feel like to have the roar of the crowd be for me.

Professional Eavesdropper takes the reader behind the scenes in Hollywood and leads them on a journey from naïvely wanting to be a part of celebrity culture to the realities of the toxic environments that culture encourages. With help from beta readers and wonderfully honest critique partners, the memoir began to take its shape. It likely still needs a lot more work, but I think it’s a fairly entertaining read.

Tomorrow, after finishing the polish on my query letter and synopsis, I will send out a couple of queries, testing the waters. I am cautiously optimistic that I have something people beyond my friends and family will find interesting, and something that can begin a dialogue on what celebrity culture does to society.

Some day I hope to return to Fear Unleashed and find the missing pieces to it. Until then, I am moving on with renewed optimism and excitement where this memoir might lead. Wish me luck.

Limiting Covid-19

It’s a scary time in the world right now. Not only do we have to face the dangers of flu season, but now Covid-19 is making its way across the country, partially aided by misinformation and a lack of preparedness. People are hoarding masks and food supplies, when those things aren’t necessary.

As has been made clear, there are several ways to limit your chances of getting Covid-19 or the flu. Wash your hands, and learn to stop touching your face. Avoid crowds. Those are all reasonable methods to limit your exposure, but the fact is, all it takes is one exposure, and all our efforts are pointless.

There is one thing that could help protect you if you are exposed, and I feel like I can’t keep this information to myself. Several research centers have done studies on a method of breathing called the Wim Hot Method. It is a method where you breath deeply for 30-40 breaths, basically hyperventilating, and then ceasing to breath until you body needs breath. The longest I have not had to breath is 3 minutes. It seems crazy, but it is entirely possible for the human body not to breath for several minutes. Doing this breathing regularly helps your blood become more alkaline, builds the immune system, reduces anxiety and inflammation. Several studies were done where bacteria known to wreak havoc in the body was introduced into the blood of practitioners of this breathing method. There was little to no reaction in the body, where control patients developed flu-like symptoms.

I have practiced this type of breathing every day for a year. I have had two illnesses during that year, and both were exceedingly mild.

Can this protect me against Covid-19? I have no idea. But I do no this is not the time to stop. If you would like to learn this type of breathing as just one more step you can take to protect yourself, here is a video.

If you decide to try the breathing, let me know how it goes. Be well.

Anti-Social Media

It’s come to my attention that I don’t like social media.

It didn’t help when I recently took a course on writing your memoir, and it was suggested that if you want to get it published, you need to have, at minimum, 100,000 followers. That’s never going to happen. I freak out when I have 200 followers.

I’ll admit, that in early stages of entering a social media platform, there’s a rush of excitement. I’m connecting. It’s fun. Whee!

But then you have to keep it up. I see people posting on Twitter 10 times a day. I barely think to look at it once a day. It is a great resource of connecting with other writers, agents, and publishers, but I simply don’t have the time and energy to make it place for real interaction.

Then there’s Facebook. When considering a post, I always ask myself why I want to post it. Who would be interested in what I have to say? Will they be entertained? Am I informing? Am I just trying to create an image of myself? Generally, after thinking all that through, I tend not to post. Sometimes I still post when I shouldn’t. Some of my reluctance to post has to do with a theory I have on intimacy. I was contemplating what intimacy is, and realized it’s the special moments we share when no-one else is around. When we broadcast everything we do, we cheapen those intimate moments. I would much rather submerse myself in that moment with a good friend than stop to take a picture and post it to show everybody I have a friend and we do stuff together. I used to feel obligated to skim through FB posts several times a day because of FOMO, but I’ve learned I don’t miss out on the people around me when I’m not glued to my phone, and that’s more important.

And then there’s this blog. I should really post more often. I should really try to get it out there, but once again I’m faced with a time and energy problem. My work requires a lot of me, and my savings are running out. I can’t afford time-wasters. I need to focus on writing, editing, and querying.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that when it comes to social media, I have to accept I’m old. And that’s going to be a huge battle in the new publishing world, but I’m just going to have to let me words speak for themselves. Either my work is good, and someone sees that, or I will spend the rest of my life continuing to tell stories just for me.

I have two books sitting in my files, needing to be edited. One is a children’s book, and the other is the memoir of my adventures in Hollywood. I’m eager to get to both, and yet last weekend I got body slammed by the best story I’ve had in a very long time. A book for adults this time, though I think teens would like it too. There’s depth, sub plots, fully developed characters, and intricate themes. I spent the day handwriting 12 pages of rough story outline. It was amazing to see it flow through me. Those are the moments every writer lives for. I think I have to write this before I edit the other ones. I just have to. I don’t know how it will resolve, and I’m trying to figure out if I can just go ahead and write what has been laid out so far in hopes the ending will present itself.

My posts will probably continue to be sporadic, because as it turns out, I’m designed more for anti-social media. So you can be ironic, and drop me a line, telling me how much you dislike social media too.

Boost My Bio – PitchWars

The advice most given to writers is to write what you know. For that reason, I think it is every writer’s job to go out and experience as much as you possibly can. When I look back at my life, I’ve done my job. It’s been quite a ride.

The first 17 years were spent on a farm in a very rural part of South Dakota. Books and my imagination were the things that kept me going. My mom says she taught me to read at 4 because I kept trying to do it on my own. Books let me know there was a big, wide world out there, and I couldn’t wait to go see it.

My senior year in high school I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark. Living an hour from a theater meant I hadn’t seen many movies. This one had an impact. After the movie, if I didn’t do it physically, I did it in my head – I stood, pointed at the screen and said, “I want to do that.” When I found out screenplays were only 120 pages long, while novels were 200-400 pages, my long diversion away from novels began. I decided I would write screenplays.

I wandered the earth a bit, fulfilling my writer’s job of exploring life. I spent a couple of years in Hawaii, a summer in Yellowstone National Park (best summer of my life), a winter at The Grand Canyon, a spring in the San Bernardino Mountains teaching city kids about the outdoors, and then finally, I made my way to Hollywood. With luck, hard work, and some talent I started working as a teleprompter operator.

The first five years were freelance, and were enough to make any farm girl’s head spin. I worked with celebrities I had seen on my TV for years. One day I was doing a PSA with The Fonz. The next day I’d be on the set of Home Improvement. Another day it was Murphy Brown with JFK, Jr. standing next to me at craft services. I worked with Michael Jackson at Neverland Ranch. I prompted Presidents Reagan and Clinton, and Vice Presidents Gore and Quayle. Sydney Poitier asked to speak with me privately in his sitting room, and I asked Meryl Streep to get off my cases so I could pack up and go home. I’ve been kissed on the lips by Bob Hoskins and Connie Chung, and slapped on the ass by Kevin Costner. Neil Simon once asked my thoughts on rewriting his speech. Every day was a new adventure. It was also an adventure on how to make ends meet in LA on very little money.

That struggle to earn a living led to the biggest wrong turn in my writing career. I traded all the excitement, and opportunities to meet new people doing freelance work for the good money and security of a long-running studio show – The Late Late Show. The problem was, I wasn’t connecting with the kind of people who could further my career. If I wanted to do standup, or be a comedy writer, it was the perfect place. For someone who wanted to write dramatic TV or film, it was an absolute dead end. My scripts piled up, unread, un-submitted. Even trying to further my career within the network went nowhere, because I was too valuable to them where I was.

After 20 years of watching celebrities parade across the control room monitors, and seeing there was no future for me writing in Hollywood, I walked away, sold my house, and moved to a spot in the middle of the country where I had good friends, the weather was tolerable, and the cost of living was low. I have a job where it takes me a month to earn what I used to make in a week, but it is one that makes my heart sing, and not one that kills my soul. I have found the balance that has allowed me to write.

I’ve completed my first novel, though if you count the pile of screenplays in a box somewhere, it’s not like it’s my first attempt at writing. I’d like to think it’s not your typical first novel. I’m focusing on MG at the moment.

The final book will have a dragons vs. jet fighters battle.

The MS I am submitting to PitchWars is Fear Unleashed, which takes place 2000 years after mages and dragons filled the land. They still exist, but now, technology has replaced the need for magic, and kids just want the latest gadget. 13-year-old Opal’s mom was working in the space program when she was killed. Now all Opal can think of is fulfilling her mom’s dreams and heading into space. The only problem is, her magic ability score is even higher than her science scores. The placement board has other ideas for her, and on her first day of school she summons a deadly karuk. In the midst of all the danger and adventure, Fear Unleashed explores spirituality vs. science, and by the end of the trilogy, love vs. fear. I hope to find a mentor to help me fix some structural problems, and give the MS a boost in finding its way into the world.

I was part way through book two of the trilogy, when I decided it might be better to have a more stand alone book to offer. I have nearly completed that book, but can’t come up with a name for it. It follows the adventures of an 10-year-old girl named Daisy, who finds a magic stereoscope in her great-grandfather’s attic. When she presses a button on the side, it sends her back to the exact moment the picture was taken – Buffalo Grass, Oklahoma just a few days before Black Sunday, one of the worst dust storms the country has ever seen. While this book is a stand alone, it also has the potential to be a series, with Daisy traveling to any number of historical events between 1835 and the present day.

So that’s what I’ve been up to during my years on this planet. Thanks to my wandering, there’s a lot I know and a lot I can write about. Hopefully some day all those experiences will make it to print.

Once More Unto the Breach

Four years ago today I arrived in Springfield, MO – my spirit nearly broken, exhausted, and clinging to a small bit of hope that my life wasn’t irreparable. It wasn’t, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I am not grateful for the leap I took.

Looking back, I have to laugh at my naivety. I had done the math, knew the cost of living in Springfield, knew the profit I made from the sale of my house, and figured I had 3-4 years to get a book published before it all fell apart.

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know that the journey to publication can be a very, very long one. Many authors don’t get published until they’ve written 9-10-20 books. Each of those books might go through 6-16 rewrites. 3-4 years! HA!

Of course there are always the wunderkinds – the ones who get published right out of the gate. There are the self-published who can claim the title of published author, but can’t claim to have many readers or earn a living. But the vast majority of authors who want to publish traditionally, toil away in the trenches for years, learning to write, learning to tell stories, and learning to deal with rejection.

This is what I’ve gathered the path to publication is: write – celebrate – edit and polish – celebrate again, imagining agents thronging to your brilliant book – rejection – rewrite – test the waters – rejection – rewrite – rewrite – rejection – rewrite – rewrite – rewrite – rewrite – agent – rewrite – rewrite – rewrite – publisher – rewrite – rewrite – rewrite. Publication!

I’ve been stuck in the rewrite process, floundering. Not sure what direction to go. Since form letter rejections leave the author blind, and my writer’s group has disbanded for the time being, I needed to get some pertinent critiques from authors who write and read similar books to what I’m writing. I got a couple of critique partners online and we are in the process of reading each other’s manuscripts and giving feedback. I’ve gotten one back already and it has given me so much to think about. Many areas that I had problems with, but my early readers assured me were fine, gave them problems too. I wish I could learn to listen to my own instincts more.

I am heading back into the rewrite breach. What will follow is analyzing the already written story for structure. Breaking each chapter down. Examining plot. And most daunting… possibly rewriting the entire novel from a different POV. Right now each chapter is told from each of the main characters point of view – rotating through to tell the story. I am considering switching to third person omniscient. It seems overwhelming to even attempt it, but I may give it a shot. If it doesn’t work, I still have my original.

So for those who ask where I am with my writing… that is where I am. Once more unto the breach.

I’m bored.

I remember whining “I’m bored” from time to time when I was a kid. Most of us over the age of 30 did. Apparently kids today are saying it less and less often, because they’re never bored. They pick up their phone, their tablet, their game controller, or the remote control.

Back in the olden days, you know, the 70s, do you remember what happened shortly after uttering those words? Our parents would either suggest something to do, which sounded good, and we did it. Or, they would threaten us with chores if we continued to complain about boredom. And with that, we would evaporate from their presence before chores could be unleashed. Out on a farm, 12 miles from a town of 400 people, there didn’t seem to be a lot of choices, but the sheer weight of boredom would force out some creativity. I would go work on my fort in the trees, maybe build something, or pretend I was on some adventure in the barn or pastures. Much of my love of writing comes from being bored and losing myself in a book, or being bored and playing out some story I’d invented in my head. Obviously, being bored isn’t fun, but it makes me sad that today’s kids aren’t enjoying the adventures that come out of boredom.

The problem is, I now feel sad for myself, as well, and doubly so, because I’m trying to launch a creative career. You see, I, too, have ceased being bored. There’s always something to watch on Netflix, or Amazon, or Hulu, or Sling. And if that’s not enough to entertain me, I’ll play a game on my phone while watching. Then there’s Flipboard, which lets me read all the news from so many sources and viewpoints, that it’s a black hole that can suck me in, leading me from one story to the next. I might sit down to write, but then YouTube seems infinitely more interesting than pounding out the next chapter. I mean, you can tour abandoned sites, learn about cults from those who’ve left, hear inspirational Ted Talks, watch a video on history, telling yourself it’s research for future ideas, watch music videos… again, a black hole that can suck one in for hours.

And then I complain that I just don’t have time to read. I just don’t have time to write. LIAR! I do have the time for both those things, and if I were bored, I would be clamoring to do them. My mind would be filling the boredom with ideas, just like it did when I was a kid.

So, I am doing something I don’t know that I’ve ever done before. I am making a New Year’s Resolution.

I do hereby resolve to be bored in 2019.

Often and frequently.

I will be getting rid of several of my streaming services. Not all of them. I am not a troglodyte, after all. I will be removing the games from my phone. The iPhone OS now lets you monitor your screen time, and I will keep an eye on that, perhaps creating time limits if I feel that’s necessary. Anybody have any other suggestions?

How often are you bored? What distracts you from boredom? Want to join me in my New Year’s Resolution and get your boredom on in 2019?

Let’s get bored!

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