I’d write tons of books – yes, that’d be my motto, I’d be a real author if I won the lotto…
I got the ring bearer to the bathroom before his little tuxedo wasn’t so cute anymore.
Because my family doesn’t just put up with my writing, as they were forced to do all those years ago in Asbury Park. They are an invaluable aid in finding the very best story, character or setting possible.
The idea that we’ll never get the opportunity to produce our best work, that we’re wasting time, that we’re going to wake up one day and realize twenty years have passed and we’re still peddling in the same spot–that’s not exclusive to me.
Each book follows its own journey and that’s okay. As long as I still arrive at the final product, I’m pleased.
That being said, there are still a few rituals I follow for all of my stories, no matter the genre, length or series.
When it comes to weird, unhelpful or generally unusual talents, let’s see if you’ve got me beat.
There are a million things I love about Nashville and my partner and I finally have the chance to be on our own for the first time since we started dating nearly five years ago. No complaints at all about living here!
I’m like, way closer to the kitchen.
A fear of heights or skittery-creeper-crawlies are pretty reasonable, given that falling a far distance could kill me and those skittery-creeper-crawlies could probably kill me too.
I’ve long-since learned the vices I can–and should indulge from time to time and the ones I shouldn’t. Here are some of my top indulgences!
I either write vigorously, passionately, insanely – scribing pages in messy script every night before bed, in between tasks throughout the day, at breakfast and at lunch. I write down everything.
Or I don’t write at all.