Weaving Gold

Mokosha, Anastasia Sophia, and Me, Natalia . . . while the books are written

Lights! Keyboard! Action!

Answering the Call to Adventure with Yes! is exhilarating and freeing. It is also scary. I remind myself: I’ve done this before. I experienced an A-ha! moment (I should write a book). I followed a trail of synchronicities and joined a writers’ circle. I wrote, hundreds of words per day, for nine months. I submitted query letters. I received rejections. I self-published. I became, I am, a published author.

There are books inside me, simmering, smoldering, waiting to be written. These will be fiction. Thus, they will tell greater truths and reveal more of me (to those with eyes to see) for when the real story is too wild to tell as fact, we conceal it, we reveal it, as fantasy.

I know I can tell The Stories, but am I brave enough to do so? Perhaps it is fear that has kept me stuck, for speaking the truth has been dangerous, deadly.

I must proceed without comparing this time to times past. I desire to fulfill my potential. Write! Write! Write! my heart commands. Use your gifts. Do what comes easily. Let it come. Let it be easy. And so I proceed.


Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am expanding, evolving, shaking in my shoes, and preparing to write.

Prompt for October 10: “Sometimes, lady, you have to just take the reins and be the one in control.”

Write about a time when you set your sights on something and you took control/action to make sure you came out victorious. Celebrate your success.

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The Long Winter

IMG_4959.jpgThe last time I opened the Scrivener document that is my work in progress, 56,944 words were written. That was eight months ago. The word counter reports the same number of words this morning.

I have written about not writing. I hibernated, gestated, lay dormant. I want the seeds of my ideas to sprout. I want them to burst through the frozen dirt, powered by magic and stored energy. I want them to soar skyward with ease, at an astounding rate.

I want Talitha and Anastasia Sophia to wake from their long slumbers. I want their walls to fall away. I want them to emerge from their shells. I want my characters to unleash their stories, whispering lovely and horrid details in my ears, showing me images and movies, so that I may record them in journal pages and computer documents, so that they may be seen and heard.

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