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Dear Author,
Isn't it enough that you're poking around in the thoughts in my head, now you want to know about the thoughts I have in my bedroom (which I might remind you is supposed to be a private place, as is the shower). No. Absolutely not. Girls are trouble. They mess with your head and play games and I don't have time for that.  And you do remember my mother don't you? And what she did? With my luck any girl I meet will be just like my mother, ripping anything I love right out of my life and I don't think I could handle that. Back off, will ya?

Dear Author Who is Trying to Blame the Lack of Plot on Me,
I don't know much about a lot of things, especially writing books, but here's something Mr. Mac told me before he died. You've got to believe in things you can't see before you see things you won't believe. He was talking about gardening but I'm thinking it might work for telling stories too.

Here's the thing about gardening. You plant the seeds, water them sometimes, ignore them othertimes (especially if they're native plants) and then you wait. And while you're waiting, there's a whole lot of something going on under the ground, deep down in the dirt. Seeds are opening and roots are unfurling, stretching down deep toward the water table. Earthworms are churning the soil and tons little bugs and mites and tiny things we can't see are doing just what nature intends them to do. But up top all you can see is dirt. Piles and piles of dirt and not a stick of nothing growing in it nowhere. It'd be easy to give up then and just roll out some plastic grass and call it a day. But if you're the believing type, you just wait. And then you wait some more. And then one day you walk out and you see a lot of those seeds you plant have pushed their way up through the dirt just looking for the sunshine and blue sky. Some of them still wearing bits of the seed hull on their hat like a lopsided hat. And just like that, you have a garden.

So I'm thinking maybe plot is like that - there could be a whole lot of something going on under the surface of my story, you just need to plant the seeds.

Plant kid


Dear Author Ignoring My Story,
I gave you the first line of the book last night. It led you right to the first scene, with me and Max and meeting the gypsy lady for the first time. I know you remember it because I heard you repeating it before you went to sleep last night and in the shower AND on the way to work.

I'll visit Max as soon as you give ME a name and commit to my story.

Lost boy

There are so many stories only you can tell.Tell them, please.


( 13 comments — Leave comment )
March 5th, 2008 03:48 pm (UTC)
It sounds like you're making progress!!!! YAY!
March 6th, 2008 02:55 pm (UTC)
Yes but I might be going psycho with doing these three at once. I keep hoping one of them will talk louder than the rest but they keep taking turns!
March 5th, 2008 03:50 pm (UTC)
interesting conversations you've been having over here....
March 6th, 2008 02:56 pm (UTC)
Yes, it's getting crowded in my head. :-) I tried explaining these letters to an engineer at work the other day. He SO thought I was ready for the rubber room.
March 7th, 2008 03:15 am (UTC)
he understands numbers and logic. you understand words and emotions. it's not because he's he and you are she. but you truly are on different planets.

~signed, someone form your planet.
March 7th, 2008 04:41 am (UTC)
Oh yes, I know. I run into that all the time working with engineers. Sometimes I forget and we have really funny conversations.

My planet is a nicer place with you on it.
March 5th, 2008 03:55 pm (UTC)
Yipes. Nothing like having your characters give you a strong talking-to! :)
March 6th, 2008 02:57 pm (UTC)
Now if I only knew which one to listen to.

I have not forgotten you. Will email you shortly!
March 5th, 2008 04:59 pm (UTC)
You do "boy" sooooo well....
March 6th, 2008 02:58 pm (UTC)
Oh Liz, you cannot possibly know how wonderful your words made me feel. I hate this scrambling, fumbling and falling early part of writing when one is searching for the voice.
March 5th, 2008 05:29 pm (UTC)
I like Plant Kid's advice, and I think you'd better name Lost Boy soon.
March 6th, 2008 03:00 pm (UTC)
I think Plant Kid gave me the theme for his book - You've got to believe in things you can't see before you see things you won't believe. - which means once again I have a theme before I have a plot. But that's okay. I think his book is going to be a bit different in structure and might lend itself well to snippets like that above.

Lost Boy SO needs a name and I just can't find the right one. Open to suggestions for names for a smart but scared streetkid who has had to grow up way too fast.
(Deleted comment)
March 6th, 2008 03:00 pm (UTC)
I am! I am!
( 13 comments — Leave comment )

Who am I?I was born on the Cancer/Leo cusp and share a birthday with Ernest Hemingway and Robin Williams. The similarities don't stop there as I can go from depressed to ecstatic without ever passing go. I feel scared most of the time though my friends call me brave and I find it easier to believe in my friends than to believe in my own abilities to make what I want out of my life.

Who am I? A wife, a mother, a daughter, and even, gulp, a grandmother.

Who am I? A writer who never gets tired of playing with words, even when the words are hard to find. A writer of books for children and articles for grown-ups and many things in-between.

Who am I? A motivational speaker, writing instructor, workshop leader and full-time follower of dreams.

Who am I? Read and find out.

Susan Taylor Brown

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"Successful writers are not the ones who write the best sentences. They are the ones who keep writing. They are the ones who discover what is most important and strangest and most pleasurable in themselves, and keep believing in the value of their work, despite the difficulties."
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--Nancy Slonim Aronie

"Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. I lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is."
--Anne Rice


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