Feeling with the novel’s conclusion that I am about to cross another life Rubicon, I am taking a few days to savor this interval before “the world” sees it…
I want also to let off some writing steam here in what is likely to be the last pre-publication blog post.
Who is real historically in that “letter?” And who is not? It should not and does not matter.
What matters is they should all read as REAL.
As writers we do have to nod to the reality that many – probably most – readers now read books differently than was the norm in the past. They are not in a favorite chair before a roaring fireplace undisturbed while immersed in that single leather volume in their lap…
I want to polish off Tomorrow The Grace once and for all. I’m trying to catch every “A” that should be “a,” every “there” that should be “their,” and every “,” that should be “.” So after this post, I’m not going to be on social media much for some days.
But in social media terms, you guys here come first…
My mood was such I felt I would have bitten the head off of anyone who looked at me even slightly sideways. Unfortunately, one person did, on Instagram…
Unless he/she is a direct lift from some actual person, even as the author I find it may be hard to recall precisely how I thought of him/her. It is amusing to take some time, sit back, and ask yourself: “How did I invent you?”
Friday evening’s flight to London wasn’t as great an experience as back on Sept 6, but it was still decent. I would now fly American again. Anyway, with a novel still to finish, I’m back now in Britain…
Pondering time may be unnerving and even scary. Naturally, though, it goes by – as a famous song declares. It is inescapable.
But in all of that is also at least GREAT potential material for a writer. LOL!
I had not planned it this way. This turned into a long and in-depth post, and if you don’t want to stick around I fully understand. If you choose to do so, as you scroll down I hope you find parts interesting and maybe even offering some “advice” to you if you write too.
From where authors get ideas, eh? A 2014 visit to Kinderhook and US president (1837-1841) Martin Van Buren’s retirement estate got my mind racing. It filled my thinking by late 2015 as I wondered how I could pull together ideas in a new writing direction…
I don’t see a problem with tweeting a couple of times a day. That said, I don’t see how some of the writers in Twitter’s #writingcommunity actually write anything. It does often appear many seem to do little but tweet… about writing! LOL!
One of the best creative decisions I believe I ever made in terms of family memory was fitting so much of my parents, my (novelist) uncle, and a grandmother, into my first three books.
You are running a real personal risk writing under your real name. If you are not a “timid” author, chances are you will write – even inadvertently – something that will offend someone.
I decided to give the manuscript a rest for a couple of days. What else to do? Hmm. Maybe loiter around the office “water cooler?”
Last night, I made the mistake of scrolling again through #writingcommunity Twitter…
What is going to become of our Kindle (and other e-readers) books a couple of generations down the road? Will a twenty year old born “50 years” from now even be able to access a “2019 tech” produced e-book?
Welcome here to my semi-weekly journal covering novel writing, travel, international matters, and whatever related that pops to mind…. sometimes seriously, sometimes rather less so. The center (centre) of my authoring universe. I hope you enjoy your visit.
Edward: “I hope I may be quite honest with you that I will be quite pleased for the opportunity to become far better acquainted with Miss Sánchez once we reach Holland…”
Robert: “My friend who wrote that letter, he’s passed eighty now. When I was in Paris fifty years ago, where I met him, he loved her dearly. And, oh, Nancy, how she loved him…”
Béatrice: “We will all of us have a drink to everyone we remember and love.”
Bill: “Fiction comes from fact, and lots of fact makes great fiction when you re-write it as fiction.”
Valérie: “Because you are born on a farm, this does not make you a horse!”
Isabelle: “I’ll set the table… This is better than a restaurant. Oh, and by when I leave… I expect you will have told me all about General de Gaulle also.”
