The Pen of a Ready Writer

 I want to couple my fun matchmaker lady with a Beauty and the Beast retelling.

 One of Kendra’s upcoming retellings is a Matchmaker story. It caught my eye because my husband and I were introduced to each other by a couple of self-proclaimed matchmakers. I am NOT the matchmaker type. To me, someone’s choice of life partner is, out of principle, not my business. Plus, the choosing of a life partner is so complex and has so many risks greatly affecting the future. It’s too much responsibility for anyone to take on, other than the couple themselves. But the fact that I am NOT the matchmaker type makes that type all the more fascinating to me. What sort of personality do you have to be? A little bit of a nosy person— but maybe in a fun and candid sort of way. A like bit bossy — or maybe just extra confident in sharing your sage advice — and you’re usually right, so people listen to you. You’ve got to be super observant. And super intuitive. And, since our current culture here doesn’t involve actual arranged marriages, you’ve got to have that knack of giving coupl...

Writing has looked very different these last two years. I have a toddler. I have another baby on the way. Writing time has devolved into something practically non-existent…I feel like I barely find time to scribble down my daughter’s amazing little milestones in a Note app on my phone. But my heart…my heart is still writing. My fingers itch for my laptop keyboard. My brain tries to sort through potential plot holes as my exhausted self falls asleep. Enter Kendra Ardnek and her self-publishing progress. She’s been doing joint retellings with other authors since the end of the Rooglewood contests. And she’s doing another set. The deadlines are far enough into the future that I began to have hope that maybe, just maybe, I could join her for one of them. And I’m excited. So now I’m brewing story ideas in my head like a good tea.  And I wanted to ask you guys — have any of you published with Kendra? Or read her stories? What do you think about this group publishing idea?

 How many of you have read Bleak House by Charles Dickens or watched the movie? Do you remember Esther? She is good. And kind. She has a dogged optimism to look for the good in everything, no matter how hard her situation. She is a hard worker, someone that you WANT to come help you because you know she will make everything better. I love her character. Not everybody does. She’s been accused of being a “flat” and “passive” character. She’s not. I’ll defend my Bleak House Esther. But let me first talk about another character…one of my own, who really was a weak, flat, passive character. I liked her when I first created her. She was sweet and lovely. I thought it wasn’t her fault that she was swept along by forces more powerful than she was. I didn’t even realize how passive she was until a judge pointed it out to me. Now I see how cringe-worthy she was — she was pretty worthless (no offense)  except to inspire other characters to take action, and even then, their action on her ...

    One of the shadows moved.   “Were you just going to chuck it in there with no thought for the poor folks on the other side?”   Flip’s voice drawled out.   It was a deep voice and it made my heart skip a beat.      He moved away from the trees and came to stand in front of me.   “Some hard-working fellow is plowing his field and then – whop!   Out of nowhere, a poisoned apple flies out and hits him upside the head.”   He clucked his tongue reproachfully.

Hey! Hey! Hey!      After weeks...months...a year????  I found time to sit down and write again!!!  This past weekend was glorious.  I dusted off my laptop and started pounding out a story.      This. Feels. Good.      I can't tell you how happy I am about it.      Kendra Ardnek is hosting a Fairy Tale retelling.  I had started a Twelve Dancing Princesses story, with plans to finish it for her event this year, buuuuut...my timing didn't work out.  So I am trying one for next year.      Next year, the theme is Snow White Rose Red (hereafter referred to as SWRR).  And it's not a story that I'm terribly familiar with.  So I read the Grimm's tale, and started typing.      It's a rough draft.  I'm about 8400 words into it.  And I'm assuming I'm about a third of the way into the story.  I didn't outline this one, I'm just discovering it as I go...

     It was hard not to feel excitement as I held the metal square in my hands.  It was heavy.  My hands tingled and every part of my heart wanted to scream that we were that much closer to our greatest goals.  I  wanted to hoist it over my head and shout to the world that we had discovered an ancient artifact from a lost city.  I wanted to call my dad and say, "So, guess what we found after all!"  I wanted to call my professor and hear his enthusiastic response.  I wanted to scoop Jenny into my arms and twirl her around the motel room.      Well, maybe I wouldn't actually do that last one -- even if this really was an ancient artifact.      I mean, I would want to, but I wouldn't actually...nevermind.      It didn't matter because this wasn't an ancient artifact.  This was a local hoax that we were all falling into.      Jenny leaned forward on her seat, her e...

     "Nothing?" Static crackled around my dad's voice, and I pressed my phone harder into my ear.  Reception wasn't the best up here.  I was hoping that I was close enough to base camp for my WiFi box to pick up.      "Nothing," I sighed into the phone.      "It was a fool's errand, you know." My dad's voice was matter of fact.      Annoyance prickled through me.  "Not a fool's errand, dad.  Artifacts have been found here before.  There was an entire culture that lived here.  We know this."      "Found by who?  The locals?  Son, that poor town is a dead zone in the middle of nowhere.  They've got to do something to keep stupid college kids hiking out there every summer, buying their food, sleeping in their motel...right?  They do have a motel in that dump, don't they?"      "Yes, Dad, there's a Motel 6." I rolled my eyes.  "With ...

    Have you ever wanted something?  And you've wanted it so deeply and for so long?     And then, against all odds, there is a whisper that it could happen this time?  Maybe instead of the expected rejection letter, you got a "we've taken your submission for further review."  Maybe a sudden source of income appears that may allow you to earn enough for horseriding lessons.  Maybe you find a nebulous symptom in your own body that hints at the possibility of a long-awaited pregnancy.  Whatever the case, you have that realization that your dreams COULD come true.     And, instantly, anti-hope appears.      What is anti-hope?  It is that emotion that springs up as a counter-balance to keep you from being too disappointed if your hopes are dashed again.      Anti-hope says, "Don't get too excited.  'Further review' isn't the same as an acceptance.  They could still reject your story."...

     I haven't settled on a title for my Twelve Dancing Princesses story.  But I've written about 4500 words so far.  Here are a few snippets for you to enjoy.       I chose my words slowly and carefully.   “I think it’s important for you to do what you feel like you were meant to do.   I’ll always support you in that.” *** I released my nose, confident that it would now stay on my face... ***      I broke into a run and reached my yard in time to see a dozen soldiers on horseback.   One of them had pulled Hope into his saddle with him.   My papa was lying on the ground, and a mounted soldier held a spear aimed at his chest.      “Hey!” I shouted.   “Leave them alone!” ***     The General and our captain bowed.      “We honor you on the beginning of your new life,” murmured the captain. *** ...

     Inspired by Kendra Ardnek, I am now attempting to rewrite the Twelve Dancing Princesses.  Something about a short story, based loosely on an old tale, is a little easier to tackle than a full-length novel.  So I am doing this as a warm-up, as I get back into writing.      But it is fun!!!!      I had never read the Twelve Dancing Princesses before yesterday.  For a moment, I doubted that I could turn it into a write-able story.  (I need to find a way to do it without magic.  And I need to have a heroine that isn't an empty-headed flirt because I have no idea how to write a story with such a heroine. And I was a little intimidated by the fact that there are TWELVE princesses -- I can barely keep up with one on a good day, lol.)     So here is my question to you:  What would you need to change if YOU were going to rewrite the Twelve Dancing Princesses?     (And here is the origi...

I hereby issue you a challenge: Take a moment and write down where you see your life in 5 years. What do you think you will accomplish in the next 5 years? What major life events do you think will happen in the next 5 years? Will you still be living where you are? Will you still be working on the same things? There's no pressure to be right. Usually when I do this, I seal my imaginations in an envelope and open it in 5 years. And it rarely matches reality. At first, that embarrassed me.  I thought either I should be embarrassed for guessing wrong, or I should be embarrassed for not achieving my intended purpose. But now I realize that it is just fun. It's fun to see how your ideas change and how life changes in unexpected ways. It's fun to see what was important to you 5 years ago. It is such a neat little self-study, and it's totally worth it. So, go ahead. Write a real life imagination of where you think you will be in five years...

Map of Pelestia and surrounding countries I started a three-ring binder for this. I have tabs and dividers. I am building a world. I've built little worlds before for stories, but none of them needed very much building.  This one is bigger and the world plays into my story in a vital way.  So I am drawing maps and naming rulers and playing around with economies and politics and religious views and weaponry and technology and many other facets. And I would like your advice:     How do you build a world?     Do you have any checklists that you use?

     When I look back over the changes of the past 3 years, I am impressed that I am still standing.        In 2015, I was finishing up a midwifery apprenticeship that ended up being a little rocky at the end.  I became a Certified Professional Midwife after about 8 years of study (5 part time and 3 very full time) and a Licensed Midwife in the state of Virginia.  I met Garrett.      In 2016, I started working as a midwife at the Birth Centre of Charlottesville.  And I got engaged.  And I got married. And I moved to "The Valley" (as everybody up here calls it).      In 2017, Garrett and I moved into our beautiful little trailer.  And had countless adventures.      And this year, the changes have continued at an alarming rate.  Now I am getting ready for another change -- a job shift.      I am backing down from full-time work at The Birth Centre of ...

Life. It's been good. There's been a lot of it. But not much time for creative writing. I'm still keeping a journal.  It will come in handy someday...someday when I have time to turn my reality into stories that the world can relate to. This year has been so full.  I know I'm not alone in feeling this.  You each have your own fullness.  Someday...like I said...I will regale you with my adventures.  But not today. Today, I am sad. And tired. I touch this blog like a girl caressing the cover of a beloved book that she has missed.  I have missed you guys.  Missed you so much.  And yet...still not sure when I can return.  Which sharpens the little pang I feel. I will return.  That is one thing I do believe. It's like a compost pile...are any of you familiar with this precious recipe of the gardening trade?  You throw your rotting vegetation into this pile -- leftover salad, old banana peels, the random apple core -- and wait...

     The night was cold -- the kind of cold that turned the trees to gold overnight.   Detlef lowered himself from his window, scaling the wall in silence until he reached the ground.   The warmth of the sun had faded away as soon as the moon took charge of the sky.   Drying grass crunched under Detlef’s feet as he darted through the shadows toward the stables.   It reminded him of the day that Emil had sent him on a wild goose chase to find his servant –who had not been looking for him after all.   The thought still rankled in his heart.      Horses nickered as he slipped into the stable.   Detlef hushed them as he found his way into Timothy’s stall.      But, instead of greeting Detlef, Timothy’s eyes were fixed on the opposite stall.   Detlef strained his eyes in that direction until, to his surprise, he discovered the tense figure of a man in the gloom.    ...

     Ilona sat by herself, thinking over the revelations of the morning.   She pulled every memory of Emil to the forefront of her mind, examining each one.   What if he had only fooled her into thinking that he cared about her?   Reluctantly she had to admit the likelihood that he had, and the thought gave rise to a much more painful one.   What if her Detlef had done the same?       “If you look so deep within, you will miss the beauty around you.”   Verana knelt next to her, rolling out a mat and sitting on it.   In her hand, she held a basket of nuts, which she proceeded to shell.      Ilona lifted her eyes and glanced around the village.   The courtyard basked in the late afternoon sun.   Women bustled about their supper preparations, cooking in large pots over open fires.   Babies played happily at their feet.   The men gathered under the pavilion to mend the...